I reached my home with a smile,
And took a pen and paper to write.
Then, He says, “No, don’t.”
I asked, “Why?”
“Because I don’t want to die.”
I smile and said, “I don’t care.”
And started writing.
After some time, he did died, and,
I thought to myself, one wasn’t enough for me complete.
And I dumped his body along with plenty other's, and took a new one,
But this time it’s Black.
Mar 7
Mar 7, 2026 at 3:16 AM UTC
I reached my home with a smile,
And took a pen and paper to write.
Then, He says, “No, don’t.”
I asked, “Why?”
“Because I don’t want to die.”
I smile and said, “I don’t care.”
And started writing.
After some time, he did died, and,
I thought to myself, one wasn’t enough for me complete.
And I dumped his body along with plenty other's, and took a new one,
But this time it’s Black.
second poem
