By John Patrick Robbins
I wrote it out perfectly the letter would say that which few ever cared to admit.
The news wouldn’t shock anyone.
Most in all honesty wouldn’t bat an eye.
Another writer takes his own life leaving behind the page and nothing more.
I had no children.
I had no wife.
I had nothing but regrets and battle scars the page kept the score.
Looks like I lost but eventually so will we all.
When they found me they would read the note carefully calling it evidence just in case I had some help shoving off.
The one detective turned to his partner saying .
“Hey look at this, I thought this guy was supposed to be a writer he fucking misspelled a word.”
His partner simply shook his head and laughed.
Even in death everyone’s a fucking critic.
John Patrick Robbins is often referred to as a outlaw poet who’s work has been published with Romingos Porch , Red Fez, Piker Press, Blognostics, Horror Sleaze Trash , The Rye Whiskey Review , Outlaw Poetry Network, Inbetween Hangovers , Your One Phone Call, Blue Pepper, Boned Magazine, The Dope Fiend Daily, Spill The Words , and Synchronized Chaos. His work is always unfiltered.
Academy of the Heart And Mind 