Pillows besmirched in sanguinary brown,
His countenance - pallid and writh’d.
At the ceiling, he cast that morbid frown;
A sight that beheld fright…
He had starved, there was no work,
and Women were a part no longer.
Not a man without the odd quirk,
His macabrous will had grown stronger…
Answers, he searched low and high,
‘Til his eyes met the blade.
The grim future was but nigh;
A steely resolve had been made.
Laced, was he, in sorrow and shame,
The infernal angst! He sobbed;
Cursing his Fate and its game…
“Damn! You had me robbed!”
The manic rage, within him grew…
As he smoked his last hash.
In a fit, the blade, he drew…
And slash’d his neck in a flash!
Those pillows besmirched in sanguinary brown,
That countenance – bloodless and pale.
At the ceiling, was cast a wraith-like frown.
… I lived to narrate that gory tale…---
You have but one life… Live each day to the fullest. As it is, every passing day takes you closer to your grave. Suicide is the cowards’ way out.
¡Viva la raza!