Purpose Poem by Keith Foley

Who really cares if I live or die?
Who's giving me a reason to breath or try?
What's the reason to stick around this place?
Waiting for a smile or a touch of His grace?

There must be a deeper reason why
I don't pull the trigger and end this guy.
How do I know how others feel,
no one has told me so it's no big deal.

If only I knew how others felt,
I would let go of this gun, knife and belt.
Any old way to die will work,
ridding this planet of one more jerk.

One hand on the gun the other a knife,
I see only one way to end this strife.
Which one will it be, which way shall I go,
a bullet to the head or a knife for the show.

Then I hesitate for a brief fleeting thought,
I picture a gift I recently bought.
How would this be given, if I were dead,
she would be crying and bringing roses instead.

Oh, how fragile is life everyday,
looking for just one more reason... to stay.