The Chaos n tussle dat Ʊ have brought upon us
The demise Ʊ have caused a day to d birth of our lord
"Be you not proud"
Of sinister handi-work dat darkkens d cloud
You have brought sour to ta lips of all
Another family has lost a mum
Just when we thought we hadd seen it all
The man you have de-manised into a black mournful figure
And the children Ʊ have put in the centre of the swirl.
I challenge you to man up
I ask Ʊ in un-understanding pain
Are you now  content?

Let us celebrate the writers and the poets,
for they are the ones that bring true magic into our world.

They make us laugh until we cry, they give us hope, dreams.
They also make our eyes fill with tears, our bodies shiver in grief.

They create worlds within our own,
filled with family, friends, foes

They give us a home,
they all do this simply by using words.

If that isn't magic,
I don't know what is.

I was lost so innocently in your eyes
Completely
Fooled
By love itself

So,
I guess that explains why your words
Pierced
My
Gut
And left a suffering so deep
That no drunken novelist can explain it

Like you set fire to my kidneys

Bathed my lungs in citric acid

You know
I loved you more than I had thought possible
And my fingers will
Never
Feel
So at home
Again

But it's been a pleasure to have your hands be the ones to
Rip
Apart
My chest
And break the bones that make up my rib cage

It was an honour to love you

But

This is my final tribute to you
My final goodbye
The last time I put your inflections to paper
The
Last
Time
I
Ever
Miss you