The Most Beautiful Masterpeice

Beauty surrounds us,
With death peeking in,
Sometimes a masterpiece,
is a tragic lost sin.

Three days before,
You plan it precise,
Saturday, twelve o clock,
Midnight.

You get your equipment,
Lay it out on the bed,
Maybe you should tell someone,
But the truths better unsaid.

You think about letters,
But it would only cause pain,
They dont need to know,
Your plan to the game

As the books say,
Its for me to know,
And you to find out,
Im just so sorry,
That this is how I went about

You paint a picture,
Remarkable to the eye,
But if they knew the truth,
Youd have to lie.

Cant tell them your plan,
It would ruin it all,
That from that bridge,
You would fall

Saturday,
Midnight,
Gun,
Bridge.

You do the Math.

You pack your equiptment,
And head out to go,
'Goodnight I love you'
The truth they dont know.

Walking along the bridge,
Eleven fifty seven
City lights surround,
Your mind dark, black.

Sitting in the middle,
Legs dangling of the side,
You hope people do know,
that you really did try

Open your mouth,
Gun placed inside,
Shut your eyes,
Pull the trigger,

Goodbye.