Suicide

An underlying sense of counting down - A rhythm deep: enteric thuds - Each another year to fret and frown About, wading in the claggy muds Of trial - to here, the blackened life. A glint of blade had caught a baggy eye, Sparking thoughts to jump the fence. Could I grasp the handle - was I shy Of what I had to do and hence remain Enshrined in overwhelming strife? The metal winked at me again To beg the possibility Of halting once and all the pain To relish an eternity Of rested shoulders, Peace of mind; So here, my wrist For ‘quick and kind.' Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009 Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide Suicide