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.
