Poem #40
As soon as I finish this poem
I’ll end it for good.
Bullet to the head
Swan dive off the overpass
Swallow a bottle of pills
Or inhale the sweet gas.
But first I have to put this to bed.
I’d even accept something
A few slivers short of sublime.
But anytime I get close
It always seems
To need one more line.
4/16/22
No comments:
Post a Comment