What’s going on with my life at the moment?
Suddenly running along like a locomotive;
About to explode in a poverty struck, cancer ridden, suicide;
Or somehow find a publisher and maybe survive.
For time is no longer on my side;
So please help me! I’m all out of time.
Please, I need to sell my poetry;
Or die alone, with broken bones, in the street.
Another prayer for the redemption of the guilty.
Please I beg, buy my goods from me;
Help me leave this poverty,
So I too can be set free.
Allow me to write, poetry to my Wife
And I shall forever feel free.
Let me tell her how much I love her in a letter;
So she can keep my words of love eternally.
Even when she hates me and kills my insides;
I shall forever have wished, for her to have become my Wife.
Just one taste of the bride in white,
Someone to actually love me that much;
It’s a joke I told myself to survive.
Some people just die alone and lonely;
Those people are just like me.
So do as you wish, in my last dying moments;
But my words are now spoken, for all to see.
If you like my words then come and rescue me;
From contempt, from the rent, from the demons I breed.
They slaughter me and bring me bad luck;
But this poetry they help me to write…
So I guess even bad does a little good.
