It wasn’t the way I had it imagined,
I had pictured something grandiose,
Instead, white walls and a steady hum filled the room.
It was empty,
just one living soul.
I have never enjoyed poems with short lines,
but here I am,
writing my eulogy, with nothing coming to mind.
They remember the good things; family man, loved animals,
you get the drill.
it’s not an accurate reflection of life, or how he cut himself with a knife.
I chose this way of life,
All rather boring, really.