The Thought of Suicide


November 3, 2010

The thought of suicide comes knocking at my bolted chamber door.

Knocking as though a friend who wishes to simply visit, to come brightly in,

and, perhaps, share a brand of new coffee just purchased at the store.

But the coffee offered, proffered is far too strong and deadly bold

and would leave my hands silent without a pulse and lifeless cold

should I embrace the cup granted easily in false friendship and never sold.

So it and I sit as in many times before, many, many times before and think

and gaze into each other’s eyes, waiting for the one or the other to come to


in this a deadly game in which in quiet place and pause we both do sink.

Can it be that fear drives men’s souls?

What is destiny? What promise holds

our future and kept in secret knows?

But, I—— smiling——push the cup away,

and tell the deadly visitor it wastes its time this day;

for alive, I believe, I shall for the time being plan to stay.

One response to “The Thought of Suicide”

  1. What to say, except. “don’t do it.” Brilliant poem.


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