Slow Suicide

(how to commit suicide)

Low grunt of pain

From slicing—your happiness

Off of—your skin

Silent wince of cry

From burning—the love

On—your thighs

Quiet sigh of sadness

From punching—the euphoria

Plastered on—the wall

Smiling through

The crowded street

Whilst I stumble

And fumble through

my feet

Listening to music

Whilst I dance to the beat

With blood and tears

Flooding my sheets

Writing poetries

Where I hate and bleed

Re-reading my life,

justification I seek

Why not end it all

You may ask

It’s called slow suicide

Death is last

Maybe tomorrow for

Torture is where I bask

Pain is what I love

And my love is vast