Sinful Writing

A Dead Goose

He sits in a corner,

Crying tears like a river,

Rumors devour his whole being,

Heads are shaking; Mouths are laughing.

The truth was enveloped,

By the raving monster of a rumor,

By tomorrow, all of this would end, he hoped,

But the Fates seemed to like this cruel humor.

Timing is what he wanted,

Which gossips never granted,

Now, long it's rumored that he's gay,

Before he confessed on Moment of Truth's Day.

He never understood,

Why people would and should,

Tell fallacies of him,

Which are so wrong and grim.

So, with mind full of thoughts,

He walked with a heavy heart,

Up to the attic so dark,

Like his life now--no spark.

And there, lying on a table,

Is a long black cable,

Fashioned to become a noose,

For his final act entitled, "A Dead Goose".

Between sobs and tears,

And a lot of fears,

Ringed and tied a knot,

So his suff'rings, he'll forgot.

And one and two, he climbed a chair,

To make all things for him fair,

Made a necklace from the noose,

Nothing to gain; Nothing to lose.

And for the last time in forever,

He smiled with a smile no sadder,

For his memory flashed of a sky--

When he was a kid, he wanted to fly.

And with a deep sigh, deeper than the sea,

He jumped, eyes closed and carefree,

Breath escaped; Wire stretched,

Pains flew; History sketched.