Death Poem Iii Poem by J.B. LeBuert

Words now flow from my pen with ease.
Actually it's just typing on the computer keys.

Tears flow from my eyes more now.
Loneliness can break even the strong somehow.
Questions muddle in the minds of the weak;
Of this and more, I'll never speak.

A gun in the hand,
May be worth two grand.
A bullet in the brain,
Will not stop or restrain
The awful fact,
That death and I,
Have made a pact.

She'll have hers, and I'll have mine.
My soul will part, at a price quite fine.
All will now hail, that unforgettable line,

''Til Death Us Do Part'

It came from my heart.