A suicidal poet.
Now there’s a cliche.
You shall know the truth,
And the truth shall make you want
To cease to be me.
The fantasy of being
Able to take your own life’s
The last comfort of control
In case of complete collapse.
The failure to take your life
Is the forfeiture
Of that final fantasy.
Suicide’s not surrender,
The last defiance
Of the overwhelming world.
It’s now you must surrender,
Bit of flesh who failed to go.
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