A Poem by T.T. Reedswell
*Contains Spoilers*
My heart is broken in pieces, like sky blue meth on a tray,
I knew it would have to end sometime, but couldn’t envisage the day.
You've been like my main educator, a chemistry teacher in disguise,
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It takes methylamine to cook crystal meth, that's something I'd not realised.
Hydrofluoric acid will break down a body, and thermite blow open a door,
And bodies will tumble from bathtub to floor with simple instructions ignored.
There were labs in RVs and a very Gray Matter, a plate and a very near trust,
And since season one I have to admit that I now eat my bread without crusts.
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You let Cranston shake Hal, he's far more than that, and brought us the great Aaron Paul,
And should I end up in a life-threatening bind then the last guy I'm calling is Saul.
We saw Tuco, and ricin and Jesse in love, and the death of Miss Jane Margolis,
And if I get hungry whilst in Albuquerque I'll look for Los Pollos Hermanos.
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And while I'm out there I’ll hear the bell ding, and think of one Gustavo Fring,
And Tio and Walt and a wheelchair exploding, a turtle and other cool things.
Like Mexicans crawling in expensive suits, and Walter White chasing a fly,
And how I was tricked into thinking the worst when a plane just fell out of the sky
There was Jesse and Walt, the lab and meth, the weight of the cook being low,
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And Walt in the car running over the dealers and yelling to Jesse to go.
Which led us to Gale, and Hank getting close, then Gus and the car bomb gone wrong,
And the lab being wiped and Gus being killed and poor Mike’s silent swan song.
I have to admit that I Googled the hole, when Jesse told some guy to dig it,
And when I found out the real meaning behind it I felt a complete bloody idiot.
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But that was the beauty and skill of the show, it always screwed ‘round with my brain,
And showed me the intricate methods involved in hijacking stuff from a train.
I could be here forever, just thinking of Skyler, and Flynn and the shooting of Hank,
And how I was happy when Walter told Lydia about all the ricin she'd drank.
So with Heisenberg dead, and Jessie now free, and Todd killed I've one thing to say:
Vince Gilligan, sir, oh Breaking Bad God, you go have an A1 day.