THE END OF THE LINE

THE END OF THE LINE

Written as a memorial to sanity,
the pages fill with remembrances
as the wind continues to whine
at the shutters, begging to be let in.

In this state of madness,
I write in the faint glow of the moon;
Midnight passes without notice,
my thoughts whirling about;
I whistle as I drink the last
of the bitter potion that will end my life.

It is - the end of the line for me
and I will bear the cross no longer;
Heartsick, weary - I lay down my pen;
and sink into a deep untroubled sleep.

Countrymom
9/5/04