I wrote this poem to scare myself out of suicide. It did at the time but now the more I read it, the more the words fade and sound old and forgotten. I have posted some of my poems on other websites too so don't be surprised if you see them more then once.
For everything there must come a last.
A last minute, a last hour, a last day, month or year.
A last drink, a last coke, a last tequila, scotch or beer.
A last love, a last heart, a last kiss, hug or rage.
Or even the last words, written on a page.
But the worst last thing, is your last breath,
Because what is to follow, will surely be your death!
