This cheerful ditty has the imaginitive title Poem #1. Not that it's a first, anyhow, I'm a poet after all. And, yes, I was depressed when wrote (as I am today, as I was yesterday, as I will be tommorow...) but I wan't suicidal, just tired of life. Can anyone relate?


I always think of standing
In a liquid sea of rain
Seems to be an image
Of my everlasting pain.

And every other image
Is fading into grey,
My thoughts return to those vicious things,
I cannot wish away.

It seems now that all my trips
Aren’t worth the steps they take,
And even climbing mountains
Could not give my head a break.

Whether singing sorrows softly
Or shouting down my soul,
My head is without answers,
Just questions to be solved.

And if I could blow my brains out
Just to know how it would feel,
I’d do it. Can you take that?
Just to empty but not to kill?

‘Cos I’m tired of all these mantras
All these lyrics in my head,
Seething with regret and things,
Things thought but never said.

And all the things that should be new,
Are copies of the old,
Twisted to perfection,
Asked but not resolved.

I’d never put rope around my neck,
Jump cliffs or swallow pills,
But I wish I could blow my brains out
Just to know how it would feel.