deepundergroundpoetry.com
Suicide Note
When will the weight of these feigns free themselves from my withered back? Send me an elixir made of lotus flowers and baby's breath so I can once again love, let alone live. So I can run with the wolves, sing to the trees and bask in the beauty of me...But I hate me. I loathe my existence. I dread the motions of my disposition swaying then convulsing like the tides of a vengeful sea inside me.
All I can do is listen, hear the whistle of the wind and the beckoning moon because my senses have been paralyzed by my malicious mind. They've been coated with a glaze of must and mold which stabs at my organs, bursting with puss.
I'm no more proud of myself than anyone else. Thus, my dreams protrude with images of death and cracked tombstones, that very stone which reflects my heart. But I blame myself, it is of no one's fault but of my own...If only I could escape, not because I'm somber, depressed, painfully lonesome but because I cannot plague anyone any longer. I've infected everyone with my presense and my meek persona has chained my to the corriders of empty space. Everything about me is disgusting, so much that I could vomit. I have nothing to offer anyone at all. I only owe. I am only a debt that yearns to be paid. I must pay everyone back for ever having wasted their time on me, their precious mercy, sorrow or tolerance.
So that now leads me to the only solution...I must jump. Jump off the roof to my untimely death and watch as my soul struggles to sever the string that ties me to the mortal world. Then, I'll fly into the vast, spacious, breezy, ever loving sky. Where I will be held by the stars, dance with the deviant moon and fly from one effervescent cloud to the other. I don't wish for anyone to mourn me for my life was nothing to begin with. I simply ask that everyone forget and move on. I want it to be as if I were never born, no footprints or papertrails left behind. No tears, no regrets, no final words, just nothing just like me.
The world will keep spinning and life will go on but promise me only one thing...That you'll still have love when I'm gone.
All I can do is listen, hear the whistle of the wind and the beckoning moon because my senses have been paralyzed by my malicious mind. They've been coated with a glaze of must and mold which stabs at my organs, bursting with puss.
I'm no more proud of myself than anyone else. Thus, my dreams protrude with images of death and cracked tombstones, that very stone which reflects my heart. But I blame myself, it is of no one's fault but of my own...If only I could escape, not because I'm somber, depressed, painfully lonesome but because I cannot plague anyone any longer. I've infected everyone with my presense and my meek persona has chained my to the corriders of empty space. Everything about me is disgusting, so much that I could vomit. I have nothing to offer anyone at all. I only owe. I am only a debt that yearns to be paid. I must pay everyone back for ever having wasted their time on me, their precious mercy, sorrow or tolerance.
So that now leads me to the only solution...I must jump. Jump off the roof to my untimely death and watch as my soul struggles to sever the string that ties me to the mortal world. Then, I'll fly into the vast, spacious, breezy, ever loving sky. Where I will be held by the stars, dance with the deviant moon and fly from one effervescent cloud to the other. I don't wish for anyone to mourn me for my life was nothing to begin with. I simply ask that everyone forget and move on. I want it to be as if I were never born, no footprints or papertrails left behind. No tears, no regrets, no final words, just nothing just like me.
The world will keep spinning and life will go on but promise me only one thing...That you'll still have love when I'm gone.
Published 15th Feb 2012
| Edited 3rd Mar 2012
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