find me dead

If they kill me in the morning

You will never find me dead

Spent my measley last semesters

Writing poetry instead

Only written

Seldom read

By the voices in my head

If they kill me in the morning 

you will never find me dead

If they pay me in the morning

I will not be eating bread

Further hungering my spirit

For ideas it once bred

But the stomach I must feed is full

the writer‘s block I dread

Further hungering my spirit

You will never find me dead