The Approach..

She was sitting in front of me, a pretty girl,
With lovely black hair, and skin which glowed like pearl,
I wanted to talk to her but I wondered what I’d say,
I went through some dialogues in my mind like a play.
I mustered up the courage, Puffed up my chest,
With the swagger of a Richards, I walked up to her desk,
She looked at me inquisitively, gave me a wondering stare,
I stuttered, I stammered, I looked here and there,
The story I’d imagined in my head was all in a mess,
I hoped I’d return to my place, with my respect none the less,
“What happened?” she asked, I found compassion in her tone,
The swagger all came back, I was in my imaginary comfort zone,
I was so smart I thought, as she gave me a smile,
I hadn’t uttered a word yet, and it seemed like a really long time,
I thought I would praise her and tell her how pretty she looked,
That would earn me some points, and she would be hooked,
But when I opened my mouth and those words came out,
I stood still in shock, “I love you”, I had said, there was no doubt,
I looked hither tither like a trapped deer as I waited for the slap,
And then before it could come, I bolted like a horse out of the trap.

Suicide...

Blinded by the murkiness all around,
Deafened in his head by the throbbing sound,
A tiny voice said in his head inside,
All I want is freedom in suicide.

Stripped of the last vestige of respect,
Not a glimmer of hope, or the very prospect,
Defamed, Defiled, Abused, Ridiculed, Rejected,
All he wants is his respect, in suicide to be resurrected.

He is tired, but the road seems to go on,
He can walk no more but his feet are so worn,
If he stops he knows life won’t give him a break,
All he wants is suicide. It’s the easiest step to take.

Bogged down by pressures, not in his hands,
He tries all he can, but it’s like filling a fist with sand,
Dejected by failure, afraid of defeat,
All he sees in suicide is a day less in retreat.

He feels the pain down to the very bone,
He loves her but can’t have her, his heart is torn,
A devil whispers in his ear, loveless life is worse than death,
All he wants is suicide, ties a noose to stop his breath.

Call it pain, call it weariness, call it whatever you like,
Call it freedom, call it respect, call it whatever you might,
Fear to face life, and the obstacles that come in its way,
Waver a second with that devil, and suicide shows it’s hideous face.