Once each night a
shadow sighs dim
Yet dies each time on
a thought or a whim
Death be not proud,
angry or glad
It comes soft loud
and dresses in sad
A bullet solves
something to quench a thirst
It dresses red softly
in a loud lonely hurt
And blades are fun
things, but only for now
Also so bloody,
thoughts hurt me somehow
Pills are an answer
for a cure from life
so is cancer, so was
the knife.
Although are there
answers? can I see them through
As I die to my
mind...for no others will do.