Untitled (2)A Poem by Arthur. S. EbbersI plan to kill myself in December, I've been thinking about it all year. But the Summer makes me so sad, I may not make it to Winter. A headache, the kind that swirls around your brain up and down and up and down back and forth and back and forth. The kind you get from laughing too hard for too long. The kind you've got no choice but to fall asleep to. What are you to do, when pleasure brings pain and pain just hurts? I tried in Summer. Almost a year ago now. I'll try again in Winter, and if all else fails I'll try in Sping. I'd have tried hard enough by then, I've always wanted to die in Spring. I deserve to die in Spring.
© 2024 Arthur. S. Ebbers |
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Added on December 29, 2024 Last Updated on December 29, 2024 Author
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