The Last Page - Writers Forum

Psycho6058 · 06-04-2005, 10:16 AM

The silence in my room
(Sense of impending doom)
Burns my brain like summer melting spring.

But as I look outside
(Looking at the human tide)
Death seems somehow like a welcome thing.

The city’s ebb and flow
(On the street below)
Resonates with sound I cannot hear.

And all the neon lights
(And other normal sights)
Just make me drop my head and shed a tear.

How can you justify
(I want one reason why)
The burden of the illness I must bare?

My life was going well
(Now I’m living in a hell)
And I can only look outside and stare.

My clock is winding down
(As I look across the town)
Trying to ignore the burning pain.

And now the time is right
(Looking out into the night)
As I smile and put a bullet in my brain.

journyman161 · 06-04-2005, 07:23 PM

This is excellent. The bulk of the poem means this is not a sad ending but one almost required.

I haven't even experienced a major illness; having an on-going incurable one would freak me a bit I think. The narrator here seems to have lived with it long enough to have lost the primal scream I'd be emitting at the unfairness.

No critique; I wouldn't change a thing.

Psycho6058 · 06-06-2005, 08:11 AM

Thanks Mark, the interesting thing was since I've been disabled for a couple years now relatives that read this thought I was suicidal and I started getting phone calls from folks I haven't heard from in a while. Hmmmmm??? maybe I'll have to write more like this. LOL