The Art of Being Bored.

Just a poem I wrote.

The Hows and Whys of Suicide

Through the days and mornings bright,
She fakes smiles and feigns delight.
For monsters hunt her in the night,
And she tells no one of her plight.

When the sun sets, as it must,
Walls and facades crumble to dust.
Into her room she runs fast,
Where she is rid of her fragile mask.

In truth, she only wants
To fall into the ocean deep;
In hopes of finding what she seeks,
Her heart’s heaven, lost with sleep.

In truth, she only wants,
To fall into the abyss never ending;
In hopes of ridding herself
Of guilt’s kiss, so cold yet tempting.

In truth, she only wants,
To fall into the darkness impenetrable;
In hopes of escaping unseen
From life’s demons, their search unending.