The note

A dream untold resting in sleep
a bright picture lying in dark to weep
Warm blood splattered on cold wall
a big room filled with people looks small

so much noise in silent residence
natural expressions replaced by pretense
providing with answers abound
but right question yet to be found

what forces one to end something so dear
something hard to understand ,never clear
it has got to be love , they say
work they say is the reason in play

so many reasons to die they will give
but only reason to live is to live
says simply the note
that the dead had wrote