Suicide
Parchment holds intended note,
One traces their tainted scar,
Above them their memories float,
Never thought it would go this far.
Feeling the devil assuring a threat,
Thoughts drifting about the brain,
Dripping beads of impure sweat,
One surely disagrees to be insane.
How futile is that distant scream,
An endless echo of ongoing strife,
Heed the end of that sinister dream,
The finish of what may be a life.
The echoing screams now done,
Insanity in one’s tormented head,
Rising up, floating into the sun,
Silence comes, that of the dead.
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