Given the Choice, I Pick Death

Death's not who is stalking me now.
He's not so bad, an avuncular guy
Who says, “Go to sleep. Your day
Is done,” and then whisks you away
Into blissful nothingness. I think
Depression's the one at my heels,
Nagging and clawing, eager as some
Autodidact to prove that my life
Has been wasted. I know it has.
I don't need his summation. The
Years have passed badly. I kept
Quitting school. I bounced from
One dead-end job to another, then
Clicked for a moment, then fell
Behind. Do I need to revisit the
Battles I've lost? I do not. I'm
Aware of the costs I've incurred.
I'm aware of my skill for erasing
My future. Leave me Depression.
Summon in Death. Let him tell me
My day is done.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 65 times
Written on 2016-10-05 at 01:44

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text