Voices
They taunt me in the dead of nightSo much so I cannot scream in plight.
They wait until I’m exhausted by fatigue
To begin their demented intrigue.
“End your wretched life.” they say to me
With the sweet sound of a masterful symphony.
“We’ll even help you with the note.”
I reply with: “Whatever floats your boat.”
They utter the words “Useless, pathetic, and weak.”
They’ve taken over my being so meek.
“The only way to make this cease is to die.”
Part of me wants to fight, but a stronger urge says “Why even try?”
“You don’t deserve this life
We’ve brought for you a silver knife.”
It appears before me.
I gladly take it in hand to end this twisted tyranny.
With the grace of a raven and a soft sounding swish,
Beautiful wounds appear on my wrists.
As I fade, they call me “Darling”.
Sorrow really is such sweet parting.
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