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To Live Or Not To Live
October 12, 2012
Misery, Torture, and Pain.
Is there nothing more to gain?
My withered and shriveled brain,
Blood and torture do stain.
A bottle full of grain,
to take away the rain.
If I break it with my cane,
Will I ever again be sane?
Death awaits down the lane,
Across the rugged rough terrain.
Yet do I escape this pain,
with a bottle full of grain?
The choice to kill my mane.
With eternal peace to gain,
Could be the reason that's sane,
To ingest the bottle of grain.
© Anonymous
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