I Told You I Was Ill
I'm lying on a cold wet slab,
I seem unable to breathe,
Is it because I smoked too much?
That thought just makes me seethe.
The pathologist said as he went in,
The cause of death I think,
Is the fact this guy smoked far too much?
He also enjoyed his drink.
I'm trying my best to answer back,
I want to make it clear,
That what he's saying is rubbish,
I should not be lying here.
I've never felt like this before,
Could someone tell me why?
Is it something that I've said?
I didn't ask to die.
The last thing I remember was,
Sipping whisky and having a smoke,
As I inhaled my cigarette,
I started to bloody choke.
As I stood up to clear my throat,
My chest felt really sore,
I careered at speed across the room,
Then landed on the floor
I then looked down upon myself,
As I lay flat on my back,
The people all around me said,
Of breath there is a lack.
As my relatives stand over me,
They're saying I look quite void,
What do they expect of me,
To be looking overjoyed.
One of them said he's now at peace,
He's looking really well,
I'm dead you stupid imbecile,
I hope you rot in hell.
I cannot move my arms or legs,
I'm feeling pretty rigid,
My wife is telling all out loud,
I told you he was frigid.
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poem by Bri Mar
Added by Poetry Lover
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