| » Poem: ode to suicide |
ode to suicide
written by SilentScreamsofDeath06:06 PM 1/9/05Can anyone just talk to me?
I'm sick of all the blood I see
The knife, it stabs into my back
the vertebre, I hear them crack
Can anyone release the pain
By biting down upon my vein
My wrists they ache just to be slashed
my car could maybe just be crashed
and then my brains would be all smashed
A gun would cause my thoughts to scatter
and then my brains would be all splattered
upon the windowsill.
The violent thoughts they do continue
This suicide could be my venue
Some cyanide that I might take
could make this awful pain abate
until the liquid charcoal-ate
later.
A life of pain and misery
is in my future, thus I see
the only way to end this bit
is grab my bong and take a hit
or wallow in my pond of shit
My car could run in the garage
or is this just but a mirage
I might just end up in triage
And then where would I be?
I could just jump from a cliff
and only take but one more sniff
of sanity
A rope that hangs from a tree
might seem to be the style for me
but if that humble rope had broken
then could they make me keep on tokin
the evil drug they give to me
called Prozac or fluxetine
Some Drain-O thus O could I drink
it's right under the kitchen sink
and I could watch my guts dissolve
one step beyond the yellow crawl
of jaundice.
The pain would warp my mind you see
I'd sink into insanity
The thought of convulsion helps me see
that this is no option for me.
Some Nitrous-Oxide would work wonders
I'd laugh until my heart went under
the peace the numbness seems so great
but is there something else, too late?
Perhaps the pain of losing air
is not as nice as I would care
But, this seems nice.
A fatal dose of morphine,
injected, via bloodstream
such happiness as my mind fades
euphoria with touch of jade.
Is there a chance that I might see
the soreness of my jealousy?
Until the bomb drops on us all
there's nothing I can do but fall
I pulled my ripcord on my chute
A gift from God it meant just moot
when it never opened. |
All (c)Copyrights reserved by the Original Author.
Author's footnotes and comments on this Poem:
life sucks god isn't real fuck everything
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| » Comments / Feedback | by YellowFever (1-9-2005 - 06:14 PM)
| "The knife, it stabs into my back
the vertebre, I hear them crack"
instead of saying "them", shouldn't "it" be used instead? Just a thought..
And
"my car could maybe just be crashed
and then my brains would be all smashed"
the second line has too many syllables to fit with the line before it.. It breaks the flow up.
Instead try saying, "If my car would just crash,
Then my brains could just smash"
The flow is easier and it doesnt mess the lines before it up.
And in "My wrists they ache just to be slashed" take out just, too many syllables.
In the third stanza, you mention brains again.. kind of takes away from the power of the second stanza.. think of something else- be creative!
In the 4th stanza.. you add late on at the very very end, it wrecks the whole stanza.
As for the rest of it, i think you wrote this very well, the rhyming is right on. I hope you take no offence to my critisism.. its just habbit. Anyway, just trying to help :) |
by SilentScreamsofDeath (1-10-2005 - 04:13 PM)
| i appreciate your feedback your the first person to give me real critisism i appreciate it :P |
by lifescolddeath (1-11-2005 - 03:01 AM)
| the reason people dont tell u things u can fix most the time is cause they like them:| |
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