Eerie Sounding Joy Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Suicide takes many forms, hides in different types of people,
lurking behind every curtain, peering from darkened doorways.

Yet, at times standing in broad daylight, punctuating it's
escape on deathly paths, often delegating certain thoughts or
ideas to take hold of a mind depressed, saddened by life.

Gently tripping, stumbling over words said aloud, echoing
still, within vibrations of inner pain.

Talking softly, whispering in memories of past deeds done in
anger or hatred, unrelentingly charging against any peace of
mind.

Unforgiving, silently decadent in tears salted with the pain
of remembering.

So much of life is deposited towards a final goal, through
suffering and time spent alone, that there no longer seems
to be room for any of it.

Suicide has an eerie sounding joy connected to it, because
everlasting deathly life will unhesitantly come to pass.