The last of my self-poisoning Burns away,
and as the cigarette shortens
so does the noose from which I swing

leaving a locked door for an open window
on the second storey floor
Im in a free-fall while smiling
because I don't care anymore.

So if I hit the ground half as hard
as the harmful thoughts in my head
I know I'd be better off dead

but instead

here I stand over a buried body
reading a eulogy for the memory
of the part of me I let die
before a newborn Phoenix learns to fly