Knife Impale

Death calls to the middle aged man,
He’s sick of life’s pointless fight,
It whispers to him from some dark place,
A dark tunnel ending in light.

It cries out to the sobbing teen,
She is so tired of being alone,
Her angsty thoughts, the painful dream,
that haunts her night and is her day.

The ever ready knife is on the prowl,
Searching for the loner boys heart,
He is sick of not being known to the world,
And waiting for life to start.

Ex-wife and depressed mother,
It’s them-or her-she must decide,
Working overtime as a whoare,
No point of living without pride.

Old woman trapped in empty house,
Wishes she was not alone again,
She killed herself with knife impale,
Only increasing her sentence of pain.

Copyright Mairi Mackenzie 2005