A pill you take and bite and swallow and wait.

That headache has been killing you for years.

You wait and smile and wait and hope and wait.

You count the time until you stop the tears.

You get distracted and you stare at the TV.

The fakeness is alike the present.

Those people, though, don’t know the pain that may be.

If they would have to live with such a present.

They know naught about suicides.

They’ve never been in glum and utter void.

They never wished to drink the cyanide.

They never felt like they have been avoided.

They never saw the horror of alone.

There’s always someone there, who cares,

Who loves, and cheers. It is unknown

To them, the life with such dumb cares.

You gasp, and smile, and you realize.

The pill did work, and now you are cured.

You will survive, those aren’t any lies.

The headache is forever gone, you’re pure.

You’re free, you’re cured, you have dreams and hopes.

You love the sun of hot dry day.

You have returned! You cut away the ropes.

You’ve broken chains, which blocked you on your way.

You proudly march and stare in people’s eyes.

You are the winner of the painful struggle.

You are the one who broke the ice.

That broken ice is melting into puddle.

You are the one, the very, very best.

You are respected, praised, befriended.

You’ve done your task, now it’s time to rest.

And tell the story, how it’s ended.

You do all that, but then you suddenly stop.

The goal, the point, the purpose, and the essence,

They’re gone, they’re gone; the endless quest is stopped.

Completed, finished, wiped clean of its presence.

There’s nothing worth to live for. No thing.

No thing attracts your shocked attention.

The pain was making you want to bring

Yourself to live, to live and fight the tension.

And now you wish the pain were back!

You’re too accustomed to that style of living.

You know nothing of your life. Then you attack.

But you have nothing to attack. You think of leaving.

You must return. You want your known little haven.

They’re in the way, they’re trying to help.

You must get through. You have become a raven—

You hunt your only friends with yelp.

You want to hunt, to wound, to damage, to destroy, to kill.

You care not, for there is no reason.

They all may say the things they will.

You wish you’d have to be imprisoned.

You cut the bridge, which bleeds until it’s pale.

It then gives up and falls into the freshet.

In puddled stream it cries its last wail.

From there on, there isn’t any pressure.

There is no home; you can’t remain in peace.

You sprint, then run, then jog away from the stream.

The cliff, beyond there is abyss.

You close your eyes, submerging into the never-ending dream.


Back