Poetry

Death

Death is inevitable. Some people ask for long life, while I ask for death.

Blood and tears stain my desk and tub.

Maybe one more will do it.

Maybe these pills will help.

I just want to stop crying.

I just want to stop breathing.

Slowly the air enters my lungs and tears threaten to spill.

The blade is cold, but the blood is warm.

I cry, not because I hurt.

But because I live.

I shouldn't have been born.

I should have drowned.

Those pills should have killed me.

Death. He gives immortality to no one.

Excepts the ones who don't want to live.

Then nothing you do will bring an end to your life.

No matter what you plea.

No matter how much you beg.

How many pills.

Or cuts.

He will laugh at you.

Smile at your pain.

And let you keep living.

Death is evil, to anyone who doesn't want to live.

To everyone else he is kind.

Allowing enough time to say goodbye.

But when is my turn to say goodbye.