Suicide...

 
Underwhelmed over thought,
the ice is thin, I walk anyway.
My mind is cold, the water
may be colder but the ice
around my brain is thicker
and won’t melt.

How does the warmth of love
end up encased in ice.
Can’t I accept the loss and move on?
Why do I tread this path of uncertainty?
Do I want to feel the chill of death?
Do I want to feel life give way
under my feet and sink into eternal cold?
Is the pain so bad that it’ll be cured by
the cold of a watery grave?

And, what of life? The warmth of family,
the affection of friends and the ties
that bring people to each other race
through my mind. I feel the ice buckle.
Wait, perhaps I can endure the loss
and go on. Yes I can. But the ice cracks,
the cold starts at my feet and travels
up my body. My mind screams, no,
but the cold binds my muscles like
chains from hell. I gasp, choke, my
last vision is of what might have been
if I hadn’t given up...