Rhyme

The End.

Just one last thought, Neal Caffrey?

My head is talking to me.

It's all too much.

What more can you say when breathing is more exhausting then not?

I can't see. Black. Black.

Empty, empty black.

Dark black.

Death black.

Black, black, black.

Sounds like a nursery rhyme.

Come on, Mr. Caffrey, I'm sure you have something to share! Just one parting thought, if you please?

Ah, dying alone.

I never really thought this would happen, but…

I'm not surprised.

Neal Caffrey conned everyone.

Neal Caffrey was the last caught.

Neal Caffrey, you're a bastard. Now suffer.

Now you die alone.

Now you die in the black.

Now you die unheard.

Unheard? Mr. Neal Caffrey, all we ask is one thing: your last words.

Words heard by no-one.

And your point is?

Black. Black. Black.

Beautiful jumbled thoughts.

It's a work of art you can't steal.

If you have them—tres bon!

If you don't…ah well. Lucky you. But still, I stand by it, tres bon. Very good.

So, what do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Caffrey?

Just this:

Black.

Black.

Black.

Black.

Black.

And there stands a rhyme.

A/N: Yes, I was depressed, and it seems highly obvious. I still am, but, I feel a bit better now. Anyway, this is my first White Collar fic. Is the spelling of 'Caffrey' wrong? Thanks for reading. :-)

Please review.

Ciao.