MY LAST WORDS

I sat down to write what was on my head
To write the last words of my life,
but couldnt express it the way I wanted
So I sat and wrote a poem instead.

The words all twisted and confused
It sends conflicting signals
while it hits on iron to make a sound that rhymes.
All logics and knowledge I refused
so that I can write whats in my time.
These words, that like water pitter-patter drops
from my mind and became my religion.
I'd pride myself to make my words shine
I'd bleed my scars to write the truth.
These words belonged to me
These words are mine to keep,
That in which I reaped.
I write my last chronicle,
and should it be an illusion I'm recieving
and not my true ending
I'm going to keep writing
and use love as an ending.
I write my last eulogy..
..crazy like my life and all my other lives:
love, hate, romance.
And if I write another one of my last poems
It will be my last chance
to use words like it used me
and I'll return the courtesy.

Words are my life,
my last poem may be my begining.