The blade beckons, shimmering in the light
A slow, quite exit, passing through the night.
But no, too long to contemplate. Too slow.
From the shelf the bottles sing, a deadly song
Again to long to think I’d done wrong.
Possibility of drowning in vomit. Too foul.
Pills of all kinds coax me to the cabinet
There’s something I haven’t tried as of yet.
Still, the agony inside takes the peace. Too distracting.
Rope, a coiled snake waits patiently in the cupboard
But to jump takes courage, I don’t think I could.
Quick and no mess, but no. Too celebrity.
Water, water everywhere but not a drop in which to sink
Clean and easy but not to struggle? Couldn’t think.
While the idea of bloating, floating amuses. Too alone.
A long drop, that has promise, won’t be hard to find
May end up a vegetable with nothing left but mind.
Fun to end it flying, though messy at the end. Too uncertain.
A rifle in the corner looks awfully tempting to me
The old friendly barrels, dealing out mortality.
In the mouth, no chance of error, a satisfying sound.
Too perfect.
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