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

final

fall

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