Long Live My Writing

Long Live My Writing

Trapped in a building, with hot burning walls.
The only way out, was a ninety-foot fall.

I thanked The Lord for the life that He gave me.
I could care less, if they were trying to save me.

By some small miracle, they found a way;
Reaching a window that held me at bay.

It was a fireman, with a hundred foot ladder.
When he reach the top, I told him it didn't matter.

I've seen enough of the world's, fussing and fighting,
Forget about me, just save my writing.

In it I put a collection of thoughts,
Of the pain that I caused, and battles I fought.

Of the love that I've shared, and friends I once had;
How I survived with no mom and dad.

Rescue my work, so my soul can escape,
I'll lie in the flames; accepting my fate.

They sent a chopper with a cage and a hook,
When the gate opened, I threw in my book.

I waved and I yelled, at the mechanical bird,
Forget my flesh, just save my words.

Consumed by the fire, I was slowly dying.
They heard my last words "Long live my writing."

Stranded at sea, surrounded by sharks;
Clutching my laptop close to my heart.

My raft starts to sink, it refuses to float.
It's close to the end, I'm all out of hope.

I remained calm; and began writing a note.
To put in a bottle, and on it I wrote:

On my computer is all of my writing,
I'm surrounded by sharks; I'm tired of fighting.

It contains all my memories, good and the bad,
And how I survived, with no mom or dad.

The love that I made; the things I have done,
My gratest achievement, my two beautiful sons.

It shows all of my talent; infatuation with words.
I married adjectives and nouns; and divorced the verbs.

Please show my work; let everyone read it,
My time has come; I'm going down with the ship.

I was relentless, I put in long hours,
Using all of my skill, and my mind's power.

Daydreams that would last, for weeks at a time
Two or three days, making lines rhyme.

The frustration I felt, when stuck on a word,
But no matter how stuck; was never deterred.

How I mentioned The Lord in all of my poems.
Because He is responsible, for this gift that I own.

I will swim with the sharks, so my work will not drown.
If it's me or the writing, I'm going down.

As the waves and the sharks, dragged me to the bottom,
"Long live my writing," said my bubbles, while poppin'.

Above the clouds, in an ocean of sky.
In a plane that men made, so they could fly.

A problem occurs, in one of the engines.
The captian announces that the plane is descending.

I knew right away; the situation was bad.
Worst than a life with no mom or dad.

A commotion is made over parachute packs.
I do not panic, in fact, I'm relaxed.

When all chutes are taken, and there's only one left.
I give it up, with one last request.

Publish these pages of words I have spoken.
Some that I wrote, with pens that were broken.

I recorded my work on precious paper,
My thoughts of the world, and respect for nature.

My life will be over in a fiery crash.
Save my rendition is all that I ask.

Give me no medals, for my bravery.
Let everone read, my legacy.

Please take these papers, in your life saving leap.
I will go on, I will return to my seat.

Going down with the plane was kind of exciting,
And I yelled "Geronimo-o-o-o, long live my writing."