The dead man
He is aware of every breath he takes
Alert to every step he makes
Deep in his head he hears the end's knock
He answers it gladly opening the door
Embracing him all the much
He welcomes it with a smile and a dagger atop his head
He wears the happy face he needs not a mask to cover the rage dying to erupt
His spirit moves from day to day
And father and father it goes away
He is a living corpse hoping for death to pave the way.
He is a murderer, he has killed himself anyway
He is no longer aware of the love he gives nor gains rather he is aware of nothing and nay
He is no different from the one in the grave
Cause he does not wonder what tomorrow has to say
He fails to see the love around him
He fails to understand  that not only he has worries beside him
He does not realize his friends and family still love him
He forgets that God everyday gives him a chance to rethink things
Maybe if he began to believe again
Maybe if he looked around and saw they loved and how important he is.
Maybe if he began to see that the world isn't better without him then he would begin to understand that suicide is the wrong ring.