News of My Demise
When Mark Twain was known to be quite dead,
it was all in the news, and it could be read,
but here I lie, entirely deceased,
as a million worms await their feast.
I beg your pardon, please excuse,
but why must it be I to bring the news?
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
