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Not Dead Yet.

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Theland | 16:08 Tue 14th Apr 2020 | ChatterBank
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I'm not dead yet, I simply refuse to go yet.
If that Grim Reaper comes anywhere near me, I'll use extreme violence to send him packing, with a flea in his ear, and stubbornly refuse to make a further appointment.
That'll learn him :-)
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Tell him you're busy.
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Yes, on Amswerbank.
Go away in short jerky movements :-)
Thank god.

I did fear the worst when I had not heard from you for at least 6 minutes.
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''Hey Reaper, you still wearing that stupid cloak and hood?
That's so sixties you grim freak''
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Roy I was holding my breath.
Not Dead Yet?

They're one of the best pub bands I've seen!

Royfromaus,
Why are you so obnoxious?
There are some abers that you never seem to have a good word for.
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Yes they are still full of life and know how to rock :-)
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Jordy, Roy is lovely, he just hasn't realised it yet.
Show me the bad words I have for some Bears, Jordy.

Off you go, go find them.
Chico I don’t take recommendations from someone who has never heard of Custer,and the Little Big Horn(joking)
lol ABers ^
Teddy Bears Digger?
er...ok
Please leave my little big horn out of this, JB9! I'm sensitive ;-)
Beuonchico,
Please accept my most humble apology,
Is it sore when you pee?
Though I do still suffer from depression, it is nowhere near as bad as it used to be. Those were dark days indeed and on more than one occasion, I actually contemplated ending it all. I found that writing helped me get through some of the bad days and this is a poem I wrote the morning after pondering my place on this planet. Though rather morbid, I do believe it is apt for this thread:-)

Death he came a-calling, one cold but moonlit night
When I first laid eyes upon him, he gave me such a fright
"I'm not ready for you, yet," I said, "I need time to prepare."
His steely gaze never wavered, 'twas as if he didn't care
A gnarled, crooked finger beckoned. "Come with me," he said
"But I've told you," I protested, "I'm not ready to be dead."
His steely gaze crew colder, stale breath escaped his lips
His bony hand reached out for me, "Your number's up," he hissed
I fended off his skeletal grasp, and slammed the door, tight shut
Yet as I watched him walk away, I had a feeling in my gut
That death would come a-calling, one cold but sunlit night
And next I laid eyes upon him, i'd give up the fight.
It'll come calling for us all one day, hope it's not as creepy as that!
Well that's cheered everyone up Ken.
Question Author
Ken, a sunlit night?
Yes I know you meant moonlit.
Very thoughtful poem, emotional.

Publish more please?

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