Years from now I'll go back to this time
Where I went to a funeral and touched the hands of a dead man
And I'll remember the voice of the man who passed
And I'll remember how the cold of his hand stained my mind with thoughts of distress
I'll remember how he used to be
And I'll remember my final memory
Of a wax-looking figure colder than ice.

Maybe I shouldn't have reached out with my heart in my hand
In hope that my warmth would bring him back
Maybe then I wouldn't have hurt so much
When I touched a dead man's hand

You ask me
If I've considered suicide
Like I'm actually going to answer
Honestly

I mean,
What would I say?

Yeah that's all I think about
Please,
Put me on piles of medicine
So I can be crazy
As well as sad

But let me tell you
I most definitely
Have considered it

I've got the perfect tree picked out

It's got the perfect branch
For hanging yourself
There's a rope already attached

Or if you prefer,
It's easy to climb
You could always just jump

These are two options
But wait,
I've got more

There's a lake out back
It smells bad
But you could definitely still drown

Or better still,
There's a great knife in the kitchen
Really thin blade
But it's super sharp
For minimum pain
And maximum blood

Yet still,
There's more

I've got duct tape in the basement
You could make yourself suffocate

Of course,
You could use your pillow for that

There are the long ways

You could starve yourself
Sleep deprivation
Dehydration
Etcetera

So Mr.
"Psychological Doctor,"
I don't know...

Would you say I've thought about suicide?