Mark R Slaughter


Suicide


An underlying sense of counting down -
A rhythm deep: enteric thuds -
Each another year to fret and frown
About, wading in the claggy muds
Of trial - to here, the blackened life.

A glint of blade had caught a baggy eye,
Sparking thoughts to jump the fence.
Could I grasp the handle - was I shy
Of what I had to do and hence remain
Enshrined in overwhelming strife?

The metal winked at me again
To beg the possibility
Of halting once and all the pain
To relish an eternity

Of rested shoulders,
Peace of mind;
So here, my wrist
For ‘quick and kind.'





Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009










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Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide
Suicide

Submitted: Thursday, November 05, 2009
Edited: Tuesday, May 08, 2012

Form:


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  • Rookie Jack Williams (11/5/2009 3:29:00 PM)

    Is 'claggy' even a real word? If you made it up, I have to give you respect, because it's perfect!
    If you're interested, I've also written a poem on a similar subject. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Nyl Relov (11/5/2009 3:17:00 PM)

    Ahh. Another suicide. So much pain these days. so much is fake. Great poem. (Report) Reply

Read all 3 comments »

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