The Last Suicide

THE LAST SUICIDE. It starts with a thought, An overflow of negative push, Beclouding our sense of right, Tempting to replace the love for life with a dark wish. A route familiar to the weak and the brave alike, A wilderness of despair, A battlefield where night and day struggle, A vineyard of thorns and anger. It starts with an innermost dark desire, An unending will to make a quick exit, From a world that muddles our sense of existence, To a place of perceived peace and quiet. It also starts with a deeper thought, The will to think a thoughtful thought, The believe for a second shot at life, The hunch to desire here than there. What of our loved ones, What of our friends, What of the promises that we behold, What of the seeds that tomorrow hold. Afterall the rose and its thorn stay close, Night always gives way to day, Seasons last awhile only, The troubles that life brings never stay forever. Take hold of your thought, Let in the sunlight when darkness closes the shutters, Take pleasure in the dreams of tomorrow, Seek a room with a better view on life.