The River Ouse Aghast
down past the cold undercurrents of
Virginia's Woolf, and Sylvia's wrath
searching through their darkest hearts
too many writers take another path
from fulfillment, and in their cups
awash with sullen antidepressants
pondering if they'll get enough
of life to even get past the present
burrowing and borrowing monofilaments
temptingly entice, dangling and dancing
just below the smooth-surfaced water
flashing jiggs luring joys enhancing
errant molucules are a hapless find
when there's no bonding in our life
and easy outs seem a preferable mind
than living lost in depressive strife
still, there's a tenuous line to living
and struggle is the never ending rule
depression fills the soul with misgiving
to feed life's fires with suicidal fuel
yet, who am i to say that they're wrong,
to not be bright with fulfilling spirit
pocketed with weighty depressive stones
a merciful end may have it's merits
but i'll not write in acquiescence
of preferring ending of days prematurely
my preference would tend to senescence
my life I think, is too precious, surely
© Goode Guy 2012-01-03
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Virginia_Woolf
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sylvia_Plath
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Depression_(mood)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Writers_who_committed_suicide
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Poets_who_committed_suicide
http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/senescence
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