Suicide

So what’s left to say?

In the end if I hate less and love more

I think I’ll be okay

I made the wounds in my wrists so deep

I watched the crimson rivers begin to seep

My memories flooded like the blood

Triumphs and failures clear as mud

Ever since I was a boy the first thing I knew was sadness

I saw the slow dying of life and learned of death’s badness

So what’s left to say?

In the end if I hate less and love more

I’ll think I’ll be okay

I tightened the rope around my neck

Took my last breath saying what the heck?

My body tumbled down obeying gravity

Like the sins of my past in their depravity

The involuntary tremors making me flop like a fish on land

The body’s begging for a thimble of air or a rescuing hand

So what’s left to say?

In the end if I hate less and love more

I think I’ll be okay

Loading the pistol with the right ammo for the task

I need maximum damage for all the filth in which I basked

Would it take one hollow point to the brain or two?

How many girls were victim to my lust, just a few?

One is too many so I will load the cold gun all the way

Cock back and a flash sends my head into gory disarray

So what’s left to say?

In the end if I hate less and love more

I think I’ll be okay

Just one more my discerners I promise it’ll end soon

The tales I spin are pieces of a whole perfectly hewn

My final death was in oil and water among holy things

It was on a cross I carry daily while my angel gently sings

This suicide doesn’t evoke past sins and misgivings

It beckons me ahead to celestial glory and thanksgivings

It is certainly as bloody a death as all the rest

But it leads to the end with our one last test

So what’s left to say?

In the end if I hate less and love more

I think I’ll be okay

-CL Fuqua

Published by clfuqua87

Old soul with stories to tell.

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