A Tribute To Heath Ledger, Which Doesn’t Even Begin To Owe Up To His Awesomeness.

for my creative writing class

They found you dead in your apartment

That frostbitten January morning

A bottle of pills was in your hand,

And three times that in your bloodstream.

They blamed it on the doctors,

They blamed it on a stressed-out suicide,

But nobody thought you wanted to die.

Maybe it was just plain stupidity.

But you left your wife and daughter

Without a husband or a father

Just a posthumous Oscar nominee,

A few dozen films and a golden trophy.

Author's Note

i need this to have more enjambment,
and do you think it has a good rhythm?
crit ENCOURAGED!!