Some times the difference
between life and death
is the tip of a pen scratching over
the surface of a piece of paper
a bleeding heart cut open
by the wrist to let its guts spill out
in all its ugly truths and hidden beauties  
a mind free to fly from open skies
into the belly of darkness
and the abyss of despair
to find itself and to save itself
poems often write themselves
and by luck someone
is close enough to hear it pound itself out
and then whisper "take me I'm yours"
and sometimes poems start off as last notes
not because someone wants to die
but their desperate to find a reason
any reason to live through the pain
of something as simple as breathing
not because something is wrong with their lungs
or their throat
but it just hurts for no reason that they know of
and their doctors and the neuroscientists
with all their hours of study and practice
and expensive machines and treatment
still can't pinpoint what it is exactly either
and somewhere in writing their goodbyes
they find something to hold onto
hold on for
but sometimes what starts off as poetry
end up as last words
that close the curtain on a life
and a heart and a soul
with too much weight
too much knowledge
too much love
too much pain
too much too much
and is recognized too late
and is gone
and the difference between
life and death cannot be changed