I was strolling down my suburban street
Wandering, pondering, enjoying the day,
When, as the pavement hit my feet,
A calming thought came my way.
It floated gently to me, riding on the wind,
And implanted itself in my buzzing brain.
I know, strangely I say this with a grin,
But if falls off my tongue like a gentle Autumn rain.
If things had gone like I planned, 3 months ago I'd be dead.
I would breathe no breath to fill my lungs.
Bear no thoughts to behold my head.
Live no longer to climb life's rungs.
I would be gone, like a whisper in the dark,
Absconding into the unknown oblivion waters of Lethe.
But instead, I flew; like a skylark,
and disengaged my rusty sword from rusty sheath.
I fought my way out from that blistering Hell,
And my cold, frosted skin welcomed the morning sun.
I heard, then, what I can only describe as a victory bell.
At that moment I knew that I had won.
I dug myself out of this deep, dank grave
And found myself smiling at the trees.
My ears perk while songbirds rave,
And I accepted against my flesh, the breeze.
I planned on killing my self a little over three months ago, and I'm glad I didn't.
