27

and when you knocked on my door
you heard no one answer
but you chose to look through the key hole
to witness disaster
a blood stained wall!
you called for help...
but no one really cared
you almost ran away from there...
but when you broke open the door
someone was lying on your way cold on the floor...
a messed up room, drugs and a letter
with scribbled lines of hate and pain
and a shot gun lying neatly on the tile
moments later you'd spot the pen!
my blonde hair had turned crimson red
the nerves in my temple tangled and tied
but i had a smile on my wounded face
and a shine in my deep blue eyes.
a decade is gone
but the memoirs are fresh
i lived long at 27
and attained nirvana my way
but taught you the secret of the game
"its better to burn out than fade away"