We give each others hands a shake And sob until the tears make The only other sound’s the break Of distant waves and birds awake The suicidal ideation deep But we have promises to keep Until then we must not sleep For we’ll be in bed with tear ducts that weep We will rise from our lonely bed With thoughts of sadness in our head, We idolise being dead. Facing the day with hopeful dread.
Thanks Robert Frost for the inspiration and the underlying structure