Talk

by Florence Meade

I really wish people could stop
Popping their own clogs
Or trying to pop their own clogs
By jumping from things or under things or into the sea
Or by other means

Things must feel terribly bad
Far and away beyond sad
With really no fun left to have
To End yourself quietly but violently; then finally
Be silent.

Third suicide in a year
I should put in a line about tears
For the sake of a rhyme?
No, the tears are not mine
They are shed by those closest, most dear

 

 

 

 

 

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