Kurt's State of Nirvana
(for Kurt Cobain)

He lays there on the floor
A hole in his head.
The pain he had bore
Was gone, he was dead.
And to all who loved him
And to all he adored
A letter wrote by him
Shares the pain he endured.
To this it was a final end
A career made of pleasing
To those of us foe or friend.
He spent the last stretch of his life
Singing songs of his death
And though Love was his wife
Francis was his breath
He didn't ask for money
No, juts our ears
And with his voice so sunny
We gave him our cheers
If a smile chants 100 poems
His screamed three fold more
Though his mind a broken home
He was and is my mentor.