On impulse drown your sorrow
and misery, behind the bottle
of pills you stash beneath your pillow
calling out for no tomorrow.
On impulse force the blade
of cold steel through your vein
enjoy the feeling, let it reign
Infinite pleasure wrapped in pain
Impulse drives you to put the gun
To your head, thumb the hammer when
voices whisper, 'Pull the trigger, your life
is pointless, and death is fun.'
Your impulse puts your neck in
the noose, and coaxes you to kick away
the chair, end your worthless existence,
and embrace the arms of darkness.
Impulse will put an end
to you, finish the pain of false
reality, wrap you in death and
steal away your life.
Impulse asks, 'What are you
waiting for? Give in to me and
the aching will end, replaced by the
sweet nothing of your own demise.'
Cooper Gilliland's Other Poems
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