Some Nights-
I Want To Kill Myself.
Hold A Knife To My Wrist,
And Slice Right Through.
I Know, Occassionally-
You Do Too.
Some Nights,
It’s The Betrayals and Heartaches. Others,
Worse Weekday Blues.
I Know You Have Your Reasons,
I Assure You, We All Do.
But, Don’t.
If Not For Yourself,
Then For The Toil Of The Ones,
Who Raised You.
If Not Them, Then-
The Millions,
Whose Death Dawned On Them,
Before Maturity Did.
Who, Never Had The Choice Of Life,
Like You Do. Who,
Would Sell Their Souls,
To Salvage The Light Of Another Day.
The Same Life, You Choose To Erase,
In an Unceremonious Way,
Just Because, Someone-
Did What They Did, While Others-
Ignored Your Cry For Help.
But, Don’t You Believe,
It’s A Victory Of Those Turncoats,
If You Chose To Recede,
Into An Eternal Stupor,
Six Feet Underneath?
I Promise You, There’s More To Life,
Than This.
So-
On A Sorrow’d Night,
When The Devil Knocks,
Beckoning Your Soul,
Steep’d In Tragedy,
To Grace His Feast Of The Fallen.
I Hope You Find The Courage,
To Tell Him,
That You Shall Live,
To Die Another Day.
For-
The Goal of Life,
Is Never To Simply Cease To Exist.
We’re Not Poultry, Friend.
Our Value Doesn’t Begin,
At Death. If You Think,
You Could Do No Good Living,
I Assure You, You’d Just Be Worse Off,
Dead.
Now, Calm Your Heart,
Know Your Worth,
Cherish Your Survival,
And Go Right Back To Bed.
–
Ish.
Libëranté. 