The Poor Rich Boy Named Al Poem by RIC BASTASA

you say, you pity him, he has everything
and today, he commits the greatest blunder of living
killing himself

did he leave a note? did he call you before he took his last breath?
he didn't
he wants to die a silent death, one that can be mistaken as a

happy death, goodbye, pretty world,
i am finally leaving you
no problems

sometimes i may get you wrong pitying the poor little rich boy
who had everything
and who despite everything he has, , , , this everything, these all these
all these that you want to have but couldn't have any
cars, boats, diversified business, real estate,
cruises, money, money and more money
buying happiness here and there
only to find that
he is finally lost and cannot find his way back home
to himself
finding the emptiness of a mother who dies
more recently, because of extreme loneliness
amidst the crowd, the socializing and the
loud music of not belonging to anything
to anyone

he still kills himself, and you
feel this kind of pity, this wastage of human resource,

you are thinking and you have this line of thinking
that those who died by killing themselves are a waste
an epitome of unhappiness
bizarre, a sadness galore, unexplainable

i disagree, they are happier, and have chosen the smooth path
of laying their lives with their own hands in the altar of
the gods of early, handy, packaged death

and i wonder if you feel the guilt of them thinking
i am taking this life, and it is none of your business,
damn, damn, this empty space is now reserved for you

because, who knows, you may be next, my dear jeannie.