“Why did she do it? ”
They all want to know
I have a shameful confession
I don’t really care
All I wish to know
is how
How did she go?
Did she stick a gun in her mouth
to taste spinning led as it meticulously removed the back of her head?
Did she wrap a chord tight around her neck
till the only song sung was diminished?
Did she jump off a ledge
painting the ground when she hit?
Did she spread her veins open
And with what did she use?
Was this her first?
Cause we know it was her last
I hope she was creative
Not dull or plain
Was there a note,
hand,
typed,
or written in blood?
Who cares about why
When how’s so much more
fun
Think you have a typo 'Did he wrap a chord ' - should be 'she'? Sick little poem, but amusing in the end. None of those ways seemed too creative, though. My Uncle Joseph, who worked at Maxwell House's Coffee Factory, committed suicide by jumping into the giant bean grinder. Ouch. And now you know why they call it 'a cup of Joe'. Cheers! -chuck
Well it was a little twisted in the mind, but who am I to say. I just had to read the whole thing. Nicely done! May you have peace and joy fill your heart. Scott
I enjoyed reading this whimsical? poem, then read your others. Perhaps it's not so whimsical afterall! Cleverly written Emily.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this is a wonderful poem of questions that make me think. thank you for sharing.