A Drain
Sat a home at the end of life
I’m all alone and full of strife
I’ve lost it all, I have but air
I’ve been a fool and had no care
The end approaches, slow and steady
No one broaches what I know already
I am no use, to man or beast
I’m just obtuse, better off deceased.
The bottle beckons with sweet release
Give up my seconds my heart to cease
No longer a drain, on those I love
An end to pain, I’m off to above.
Copyright © Anthony Mathias | Year Posted 2006
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