Rhosas2022/04/09 00:16
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Loosing body parts with no one to assist in the world opens one's mind to suicidal tendencies. That's what this poem is about.

Thoughts worth the entire destruction of my being,

Like a flood, it came fiercely to drown my sorrows

Should I stay or should or go?

For the problems at home wearies my soul.

My incapacitation limits my success,

The other side is beautiful compared to these wars I face.

All was well three months ago when my hands were alive.

Lost in an accident with the offender behind bars,

I'm left without them in this empty world;

No one to call out to, no one to help.

Death is but a means to an end.

In the very least, none would miss me

I'd save myself of so many troubles

No more debt bills at my doors steps daily-

More importantly, no more pains and struggles

As the pain intensifies, so does the mockery,

I await the day the neighbors would be all out -

To effectively carry out my motives!!!

They never helped before and they won't now.

The clock ticks slowly and lingers on.

Soon, my end will come by my own hands.

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