Untitiled

The voices I have heard
scream with rage
cry with grief
trapped within a weakening cage

It staggers my belief
that I can stand upon this empty stage
and hear words of the thief
debate existence with the sage

I no longer wonder at the sound
of the madman with the knife
the growling muttering hound
or of that maddening fife

The giggling voice of a little girl
The boastful tones of a small boy
These and more I hear in the whirl
Of my thoughts, never alone

The blue steel of the pistol shines
The poison in its bottle, an ally
The knives in their wooden shrine
The noose hanging from high above

The voices clamor and cry
NO! They will not allow
The farewell, the final goodbye
It is time now, for me to take the final bow

The maddening fife grows piercing
The voices strident, demanding
The madman becomes fierce
The young voices crying

A single shot, a single swallow,
The knife for my wrist,
or the noose for my neck?
How can it be allowed to end like this?

How I wish that it could have ended
In some pleasant place
Some place with family gathered about
Sun washed and full of grace

Not in this dingy dirty place
Cut off from light, from life
I have run the race
I have run the edge of the knife

Poisons bitter taste
The sound of a gun
A knifes razor kiss
The noose tight about my throat

The voices die
The light grows dim
The little girl asking, pleading, why?
The world fades from sight

Flashing through my mind is regret
I can hear the demons applause
For all the pain this will beget
Of the suffering it will cause

A final plea unspoken
Never to be heard
The thought flashes through my mind broken
Help me!

Suicide is not the answer I sought
Quickly now darkness falls
I must answer for the pain I have brought
As I plunge to the infernal halls