Suicide: Note

wounded ire

funeral pyre


the sun hides

the other side

and in the quiet

dark deeds arise


not even the ancient light of stars

break through the velvet shroud

no breaking thunder ever heard

in cloying silence loud


would that hell had a fire

a colour other than

deathly black

would that screams invade mute ears

and break the silence

break its back


how can something whisper

when no voices are around

and how can something stumble

with no stones upon the ground


little ‘mare, you utter much

your fear pervades these lonely halls

the wide wide path again i tread

with mounting dread

as terror falls


nothing left

no not one

take thy drum and beat another tune

for this one empty and forlorn

has no more song

no music of its own

will ever again escape

pale lips


come god come gods

come one come all

and see the

blasted extent

of the




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