SF (15/4/90 / dampier)

Why, Suicide? ? ?

Suicide, your cold gnarled fingers have touched my soul
You tried to blacken my heart
Sent icy chills up and down my body
Your arrows spent
Some hits so true so right.
Suicide, your holding the world in your palms
Tearing everyone apart
Pushing everyone away
From other mundanes.
Suicide, you are like a tornado
You destroy everything in your path
You suck everything in its body
You are destroying human kind.
Suicide your touch is like acid
The thrill you give yourself
Gives others pain and hurt
You make families ashamed
Because of what you have done.
Suicide, you tear out their organs
Chain them to the ground
Bloody and bruised
Feed them to the wolves.

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Robert Frost

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

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