Last of a Dying Breed
I lurk in the dark bowels of my home,
Writting these words for all to see,
Poems like my children brought forth,
Then Soon I set them all free.
Lonliness grips my soul here,
No more poets for me to visit,
I am the last one left alive,
The only one not to quit it.
Depression I try to overcome,
Not like the poets I knew and love.
The last of this dying breed.
Not to succumb to the heavens above.
Or maybe it's just not my time to go,
Still something I have to teach,
Some soul I must contact and embrace
Someone I have to reach.
Refusing to be a guinea pig,
I have quit the pills and ehlixers,
Everything that they prescribed
They thought were problem fixers
No medications to dull my writting
I am back to doing it full blast,
Not knowing when this ride will stop
When I will write my last
I stand alone and I face the task
What ever the hell that it may be
Until I join the rest of my group,
My soul set out to be free.
By JToddUnderhill
© 2008 JToddUnderhill
(All rights reserved)
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