Married male, age 74
What is a few short years to live in hell. That is all I get around here.
No more I will pay the bills.
No more I will drive the car.
No more I will wash, iron & mend any clothes.
No more I will have to eat the leftover articles that was cooked the day before.
This is no way to live.
Either is it any way to die.
Her grub I can not eat.
At night I can not sleep.
I married the wrong nag-nag-nag and I lost my life.
W.S.
to the undertaker
We have got plenty money to give me a decent burial. Don't let my wife kid you by saying she has not got any money.
Give this note to the cops.
(top)
Give me liberty or give me death.
W.S.
*A RANDOM, UNKNOWN SUICIDE NOTE FROM A CORONER'S OFFICE*
© 2008 the-rapist
Copying this work to another webpage without author permission is plagiarism.
Plagiarism is a misdemeanor, usually punishable by fines of $100-$50000 and up to one year in jail.
Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/17203/108588 on Tuesday October 07th, 2008 08:23 PM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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