The End.

A poem I wrote under the influence of deep depression, which oddly is when I write my best (in my opinion).

As my mind slips my thoughts drift, I'm having my last memories.. Things I know, things no one knows, things that die with me.. Questions left unanswered, answers left unsaid.. My love, once bright and prosperous, now fades to dark.. On this note I feel I've begun to take my final breath.. Something I've done so many times, and each in half a second; but this finale seems to last one hundred years more.. Time slows and my thoughts drift, I've had my last memories..

Author's Note

The lack of stanzas is meant to be symbolic of the cluster of thoughts occurring within a small amount of time.
The photo is at this link: http://bldgblog.blogspot.com/2007/08/drains-of-canada-interview-with-michael.html