Amy Winehouse Death Poem

Fuck death anyway
What does it mean
We are all going to die
No matter how well we live
Leave a mark you bastards
Instead of hiding in the shadows
The corruption of the world surrounds us
Eating away at our souls
Hypocrisy at our throats
Choking our artistry
27 club
We were all used
Passion made a buck
A fucked up list
That we should worship
So screw it all to hell
I don’t give a fuck
Everyone on that list
Would tell you
To just goddamn grow up
They gave their art
Nothing more is owed to you
We take their deaths as ransom
For the banality of our lives
They paid the fucking price
Does it matter
Shall we suck off the grim reaper
Death is welcome
For us all