Suicide Poem by Shane Dickie

Thoughts are morbid, deep, dark and sinister,
I feel I am already in the crypt, all ready for death,
Is it in my heart or in my head - the act is a mere formality.
My pain is the grief of a thousand bee stings
The poison having no known antidote,
My thoughts are scattered and devoid of logic
Like radio station static; my soul is rife with images,
Of foul deeds - the receiver of this wrath
Being myself and the end to my misery.

I am in a dark place.

I feel a void with gut-wrenching, piercing agony.
I fight a phantom I cannot see or understand.
I wish only to cry or to die - the latter being a delicious
Meal I wish but do not want - I am in my darkness hour.

This depression is like a vampire bat sucking the
Life-force out of me; yet while it dines on me, I plot my
Escape - Will this end be my fate? I search in vain for reasons to live.
If I leap from this cliff will I grow wings?