No, despite how it sounds, this poem was not intended to be about suicide. It can, however, be interprted that way, but to all my loveley friends who I have coerced into reading my stuff, I have not gone over the edge again, so don't panic.


This Life We Live

Freedom is a joke

And you're imprisoned by your fear

Somewhere something broke

But in your darkness nothing's clear

Desperation, anger, pain

There has to be a better way

Playing with metaphor and rain

Don't want to see another day

And you know there's a way out

But you cannot find the key

No one's there to hear your shout

As you cry out blasphemy

Someday something has to give

Will you be there to see it through?

Can you stand the life you live

Enough to make up something new?

Or will shadows fall around us

Like ill-tempered summer hail

Eating sunshine with a minus

As we slowly start to bail.