Paper Death

The strength in me is breaking down
With all the voices weighting me.
My head will soon be on the ground.
May short the time of waiting be.

I trudge on four iambic feet
By matching every other stride
With marching beats of heart’s retreat
Away, again, to suicide.

[I have removed the dark details
For none deserve to know my means,
Until the day my will prevails
To show my friends my brutal scenes.]

I choose today to die in verse
Because I cannot die in sooth
For there are those I need to nurse
And there is much to write, in truth.