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by Mark Spencer Mar 14, 2011 category : Sadness, depression / about death
It was really very easy, Not at all like I thought. I had feared it might be painful, To take that fatal shot. But as I pulled the trigger back, And the ball pierce my heart, It was at that very moment, I felt my soul depart. There I stood, outside my body, As it twitched, and convulsed. If I had watched with human eyes, I might have been repulsed. I believed my trials were over, My victory was won. But I was soon to discover, My woes had just begun. An angel appeared before me, To tell me of my fate. He said, "You must remain on earth, To face what now awaits." "There are lives that you have altered, And some you've left forlorn. Others will have no future, For they will not be born." "This act has changed so many things, Through the generations, Lost descendants will not effect The rest of creation." "Now you must face the consequence, Of what this deed has wrought. Until the end of its effects, For that is now your lot." "You shall be a silent witness, To the seeds you have sown. You'll watch until the end of time, Entirely alone." This is the fate that I've endured, Six score and thirteen years. A fate that will persist until, The angel reappears. Thus I will guide this poet's hand, That I may now confide, And tell you of the yoke I wear, The price of suicide.