Death is never the worst fate
Alas I realize this too late

My heart bleeds poetry, the way your wrists bleed blood
And so I bled, as my world fell into the mud
Yet I bleed not now, for neither do you,
and you don't care, so you're not going to.
But let it not be said, that I did not try,
I just can't bleed poetry, with a muse that's gone dry

Life is a journey, a road of wonder, and pain,
shame about the destination, I'll never see you again.

The way you left the relationship just shows the type of person you really are.

Poetry is just emotion distilled,
but before that, the cup must be spilled.
Passion and pain, must come and go,
before the poetry shall flow.

And when the world stops so still,
and it all becomes a frozen chill,
along comes emotion to thaw it out,
and then a ripple comes about.

And ripples grow to so much more
and so there is, poetry to adore.

There is no point, all is dust,
my life will end, as all things must.
No feeling is worth the pain of life,
a pointless waste, filled with strife.
So with this blade I'll end it all
and into peace, I'll finally fall.