Suicide
A paper
A pen
A rope
A stool
An anchor
Write your last
Heart wrenching sword-like words
Wishing their impression will last
When your existence becomes the past
Ignoring the pounding of your heart
Due to the terror about to happen
(It has never imagined 7 minutes without a thump)
Go peer through your window
Search for any smallest signs of hope
What a gloomy surrounding stares back at you!
Curse the sacred life cycle
For the one way ticket offered at birth
Chromatography of body & soul being death
You never understand that patience
Has the ultimate power to negotiate
With both direction and path of fate
When...
You go over the notes on the paper,
Sadly rest your pen on it,
Ascend the stool,
Firmly fix the rope on the anchor,
Tie the rope into a noose,
Get it round your neck,
Take a deep sigh, thinking
It will defy the agony of death
Then suspend yourself in the air
That exact moment
You wish you had wide wings
You wish your neck was a razor blade
You wish you had darted your short-sighted eyes
Just a bit past the sour surrounding
For every strong storm paves a way for a cool calm!
But now...
You are a MURDERER
A murderer of you own spotless soul
Your soul will NEVER rest in peace
ETERNAL inferno awaits you!
Copyright © Clement Chipande | Year Posted 2020
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