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Poem Details
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| Title: | Hate |
| Author: | Phil |
| Date Submitted: | 3/18/2014 |
| Email: | phil@dreamtone.com |
| Poem: |
I mount the chair, Tie the noose, And pull it so It won’t come loose. I prise the pane, Mount the ledge, And sidle to The crumbling edge. I draw the blade, Whet it true, And think about Which wrist to do. I count the pills, Look for more, And fill the glass, Then lock the door. I write the note, Say goodbye, And cock the gun. Why won’t you die? ... |