I say let me not die without agility!
Give me pills or a knife while I've ability..
to administer the blessed coup de grace.
A pile of compost can be my resting place!
your epitaph: Here lies Bri Composting in this place. Died with agility. A knife in his hand Dealt the coup de grace...
PLEASE NOTE: if YOU have tried or are COTEMPLATING/considering/thinking of.....killing yourself, I strongly SUGGEST seeking counseliing/conversation with a 'counselor', a friend, or a religious leader (who is not close-minded about suicide)
The last man to be guillotined had a letter delivered just before the event. They put it in the box so he could read it later…….
This poem, though expressing some real feelings I might have, is not very entertaining, is it? IS IT! ! ? bri : )
Pills or a knife? Heaven forfend! Too much ice cream will be your end.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
off with your head i doubt blue will dribble sleeping in late? and no time to scribble can I drop the blade for you?