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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #1336752
The final conversation..
Death Self Inflicted.


What is this demon inside of me, that rages like the waves on a violent sea,
why am I so possessed by this fear that haunts the very core of me?
I offer to depart to leave the life that used to delight me,
but cowardice has raised its head and will not allow just yet the demise of me.
All lovers laugh and lovers cry but whatever task I have undertook,
and all the methods I read from every book cannot save the love that has passed by.
To shun and laugh at my attempts to pacify you screamed and shouted at my cry,
for help and justice we should not ignore and not depart without a try at resolve.
Were such attempts so stupid that you called me by names I’ve never heard?,
all smut and insult in every word issued from the mouth I once kissed
Oh!, to taste those lips once more, but I will not ask you to stay I will not implore,
for now you have gone and you will not return to relieve me of this torture.
And never again by means of hand or touch or wish,
nor shall we send mutual sentiments from our lips.
And into this noose that I have tied I place my neck and sigh,
and as I float with the wind I shall utter my final cry.

End.
© Copyright 2007 Spaniel (bren at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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