The Last Note





The paper was blank,
Not even a drop of ink.
Just like this life
He was standing at the brink.

All his thoughts had stopped,
All the sorrows would end;
The decision was to quit
There was nothing left to mend.

The stars were glittering fine,
And the breeze blowing fast,
With the empty paper in his hand,
He dived into his treacherous past.

The days of glory,
The days when the sun shone bright,
He tried to recall all of them,
But alas! he found none to write.

He was chained by his melancholy,
Locked in his mind’s hell.
He had lived a life of solititude
And abandoned his moral cell!

Stunned by the agony,
Desperate to run far away,
He thought of writing one last time;
Wanted to scribble all he had to say.

Standing alone at the brink,
He was ready for the ultimate leap.
He knew the jump was necessary.
The jump would put him to sleep.

Death was not far he knew;
Death would be his final mate!
When life could never be friendly,
It was time to change the fate.

He left behind the blank paper,
With blood and tears he wrote,
Just like his empty life
Empty, was his  LAST NOTE!


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