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I was alarmed as nobody
paid attention to me:
if there was a Plan B -
it was to die - dramatically.
A hangman’s halter I took to swing
snapped and failed my neck to wring.
Then I drank of hemlock deep:
all it did was make me sleep.
Wide awake I’d somehow made it back
I laid me down on a railway track
Alas! never once was I alerted
all trains had been diverted.
It seemed a good idea to me
to drown myself in the Dead Sea:
buoyant in such drink, I did not think
no swimmer there is known to sink
From a high rise parapet I dropped over
and landed in a cushioned bed of clover.
I tried to cut my jugulars but By Heck!
the blade was blunt and just grazed my neck.
A contract killer - hired off the shelf -
took the money then shot himself
after stating though he’s willing
I was not worth the killing.
By now getting frantic
on the internet I met a tantric
guru whose advised me tarry
“All I needed was to marry…
…It is a kind of death, all near
and dear pity you - but it’s clear
you get everybody’s attention
and in obituaries never a mention”.
79/M/Co. Fermanagh. N. Ireland
(79/M/Co. Fermanagh. N. Ireland)
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