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Poem Details  

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?