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.