Death Note Poem by Rodion Myshkin

So many ways to my final breath
But so few have I given a chance,
The tipping edge in view at a glance
No pause - but respect poor Macbeth.

My death will just be a smirk or a sigh!
Hardly remembered, readily forgotten,
Condolences mostly misspelt or downright lie
A parody of pretense, and good riddance.

But haven't I deserved this rhyme
Yet some may argue - even less;
It's humbling to confess
I've been a wasted tool of Time.

Still, given a chance to repeat
I would embrace every sorrow sweet,
N pen this note again
Before the final heartbeat.