a poem on the topic of suicide from an unlikely view |
dressed in a dress of duvetyn at the kitchen at the sink dressed in the dress of desire not acquired the little boy walks in the room her little boy her little son at her little sons feet at her little boys feet a dead bloated rat thick grey matted fur, stained with blood to come she grabbed the knife from the sink and stabbed her little son she stabbed him seven times to the stomach simultaneous release simplistic seven she moves her knees to the ground and her heart to her head out of the rat grew yellow petals of joy picking it out she put the flower in her mouth and chewed and chewed dum ditty ditty dum and chewed dum ditty ditty dum but the dead rat was dirty got it's muck on the daisy and the poison stung deeply and the pain stung greatly into her stomach a pain so overwhelming a pain a pain a room so whirling but soft! so softly the matted mess of fur stood up to scratch its claws across her floors across her floors onto her son the dead, bloated thing it ran away only she is in the room with seven knives from her stomach and flowers in her eyes but I swear she told me to leave |