The Bright White Light
she saw that rope hanging down from the ceilingso perfectly tied
no matter how much weight was on it, it wouldn't fall
She knew that and stared waiting for the right time to do this
She sat there and thought
She thought that that rope wouldn't fail
Like the last one she hung from the tree
She still thought this time must be perfect
She held her composure as she walked to the rope
tugged on it to make sure it would work
she pushed her chair underneath and stood
she circled the rope around her neck
she tightened it and kicked the chair out from under her
Then she saw the light
The Bright white light.
-Emily Weeda
A/N
This poem Is dedicated to Demel Kasumi
for giving me the subject of suicide :(
Depressing poem huh?
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