Why The Hell? Poem by Mad Gone

News today of yet another suicide,
while those who think we have it all,
track our footprints, while our time we bide.
Derek has taken off his shoes.
The rope which served him well upon the farm,
has pulled too taunt, to cause him deadly harm.
The poet’s country failed to ignite,
or did his senses find something missing in the dead of night?

Why, once more the question will surely rise,
It was loneliness, I am sure will be surmised.
How could this be, when friends are now such plentiful?
But where were they when the lights began to dull,


When the sun had lost it’s shine,
When pain was simply keeping time?
When the ocean and woods had dried and died,
When the moon and stars had cried.
When the rainbow failed to show,
When the darling buds of May,
Had failed once more to grow?
When no fair maiden ever showed.

Why, once more the question will surely rise,
He could have spoken to me, for I am so wise.
How can this be, with so many friends now crying?
But where were they when the moon was sighing?

When the meadow was forlornly barren,
When the daily milk was curdling and souring.
When people laughing hurt the ear,
When Big Ben brought another damning year?
When smiling would crack the fragile mask,
When rising in the morning became too big a task,
When the throbbing of a missing leg,
When the bomb, played out again in the head.

Why, once more the question will surely rise,
Did the devil win his deadly throw of the dice.
Why, when friends and foes are here,
Why the hell not is my answer to my peers!