A Realistically Bleak Outlook!
Is it really so wrong to write of death?
When it happens so very often?
But not just death, but the taking of life,
Suicide is so painless, but yet,
How does one know?
There is only one true way to know,
And of course if you succeed,
You may become a Jane or John Doe,
So how does anyone know the secret?
Of whether pain was indeed a true show?
There has been many a time,
I openly admit to [No, seriously l do]
When l have been at the end of my line,
And death looked deep and true,
Into my mind!
‘Tis nothing that l fear anymore,
But it is not just down to me,
Now l have to be considerate to the core,
Of my responsibility,
And not just yours!
Think it may be healthy, and not a sin,
To look seriously at life,
Knowing where you are, where you have been,
And it can be extracted with a sharp edged knife!
If you know what l mean?
Yes, for not just my sanity alone,
I have dreamt of making the final walk,
And always do l postpone,
Convincing myself it’s all just talk,
But, maybe, just perhaps Death is already home?
Indeed, there are so many reasons to just let go,
If not for peace, then just a truly final sleep,
With a small call to let them all know,
Then finally let go into the deep,
Finally resting and allowed to sleep slow,
Life is not so damningly brilliant it must be said,
But for a few reasons of love,
Do l stay safe and secure in my head,
And as such to not slide into the thereof,
Which is why l am alive and not yet dead.
Guy or Bloke, Your Choice