Someday Poem by Zog Gascoigne

If he wins the war someday,
Then my body he will slay,
Give my mother my soul to take,
Nevermore shall i wake.

My Funeral
Don't let him go,
A pretence of grief, a convincing show,
Only now does he care, too late,
We're not there.

No regrets, soon he'll forget,
What went on behind closed doors,
The blood on the ceiling, the wall, the floor.

A year or two down the line,
And he'll be doin' fine,
Have a new life, a kid and a wife.

But oneday the mask,
Will crack and shatter,
And they'll see,
Who he really is.

*Not too sure about this one, what do you think? * **Don't even remember writing this...**