It's the same thing that drives me to suicide nearly every night,
It's the same thing that gives my enemies such evil delight.
It's the same thing that gives my lover such a fright,
It's the same evil thought that I am thinking tonight.
Even you reader, would you miss me if I left?
If I just stopped writing poetry, left this account bereft?
Would anyone, anywhere, miss me if I left?
If I left for good, because with a blade I am deft.
No one would miss me...
No reason to, no one loves me.
No reason to, no one even likes me.
It's just a fact that no one would miss me.