An old poem. I was never much for being subtle.


Like these pills
in the bottle
I'll leave half-filled
with sugary mints,
to be inconspicuous,
to make this
last breath special.

Like these pills
in the bottle,
I'll use what's left of you,
to hurt myself,
kill me if I can.
But I fill you up
with artificial love,
so you will never
be the one to blame.

Poetry by True Words Embellished
Read 941 times
Written on 2007-02-25 at 15:07

Tags Suicide 

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