I feel like writing and so I must,
I will write this poem at any cost,
Be it from my final breath,
before the moment I'll kiss death,

I will utter these very words,
Oh my lonely little bird,
you're finally free to fly away,
now that I am old and grey,

my final breath shall give you life,
a life free of all strife,
so spread your wings and fly away,
and begin life on a day.

you get a call
it’s too early
but too late all at once

you get a call
it is after midnight
he has the bottle in hand

you get a call
it is early morning
the pills are down his throat

you get a call
it’s one am
he tells you not to worry

you get a call
you don’t know how to feel
he says he’s done the bottle
(you don’t know if he means the pills or the water)

you get a call
you don’t know what to do

you get a call
it ends too soon