Yet another poem about death 
 
As autumn approaches 
And I’m not talking about the weather 
I’m quite pleased to report 
I’ve been holding it together 
Not dwelling to much on all that is wrong 
Because if I did this would soon become a repetitive song 
And I’m not here to try to depress you 
But I have to say it is time to confess to you 
That I get panic attacks 
Anxiety why is this happening to me 
Why’s this happening to any of us 
More is the point  
And I’m open to suggestions 
Because I can’t see a point in a beginning 
If there’s to be 
An automatic end 
What’s the point of living? 
Making families and giving 
If after it all 
You’re still bound to fall