Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2015
It's suicide
I died,
I died and tried that suicide again to feel the numbness,
all I found was pain.

No pill can thrill me like the thought of death that killed me,
but it's suicide and suicide lied twice to me,
suicide's not nice to me.

I live on
all thought of death long gone,
no longer trying to be dying,
no numbing though pain keeps on a coming,
try suicide or the one that died
died for **** all.
John Edward Smallshaw
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw  68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems