The Suicide's Soliloquy Poem by James McLain

Closed they seal my eyes.
My breath it sold for gain.
Common mortal man had much to gain.
While what I owe all saw me pay.

Coming home one morning she did not.
Across the dell she was the farmer's wife.
How could a whore she be without a man.
Many necks are streached to get a glance.

Nutrition we all need at her expense.
Recompense for all our deeds, dirt cheap.
The steeplechase for most is out of reach.
A whore she could not be without a man.