Easy
Whoever said suicide was the easy way out.
Those people
born blessed without
this chemical malfunction
that pollutes harmless thoughts
into venom that blisters
deep into self made wounds.
This exhausting battle
that wages in your head
and the boiling of your heart.
Everyday is another fracture for a withering soul.
Suicide isn’t easy.
The thought of taking your life
is the hardest choice.
Living is easy.
Defying the natural instinct
that allows one to see new sunrises
despite the bleakness of the dark
and barren wastelands
born from the ravages of depression.
That’s hard.
The tortured mind desperately grasping
at the love and strings that connect one to others.
Today though, I felt the cold coil around my throat
and it all faded as my mind shouted out for the never ending peace
brought by unseen tears and regret.
With the first blur of darkening, your face flashes
despite the words you just left with me.
Your almost last words.
it gave me a kick back to a life
where you will not cry for me.
The question that reminds as I look at my
instruments for my escape.
How much longer can I keep this up?
How much longer can I get the better
of holding hands with my own personal reapers?
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