Mirror Image

He waits for the deciding push
A final setback in his life
Efforts made, but what's the point?
He raises his keenest knife
 
He recalls his past mistakes
The treachery, and negligence
Death, he feels, would be proud
To remove this cause for pestilence
 
He positions the sharpened blade
To a vein stretching on his throat
But in the mirror he sees his face
Lacking tears, creased with a gloat
 
He realizes that there's more
So much to do before he goes
The reflection does somewhat agree
He's doomed to life, not graveyard rows.