My life’s blood spills out upon a page.
Will I die in peace or rage?
Get over it, it could be worse, cheer up, Irish people say.
Yeah, right, I say in my last words, who will write them down except this clown?
Oh, sorry, I wrote a line that does not rhyme.
Someday I may.
Blood, they say, is thicker than water, I know which I like to drink.
Hello there, my pen has not run out of ink.
25th June, 2017