My Calling

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Poem about suicidal thoughts.

Submitted: August 15, 2012

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Submitted: August 15, 2012



The night is cool but I’m not whole.

Feelings continue to wrap my soul.

My body is tense and my mind is gone.

No longer do I want to live.


Opening the window I feel the breeze.

There is something different that puts me at ease.

Yet my hands are shaking and I’m sad.

Taking this gun will make me glad.


People take me for a joke and this is true.

Thus is why I feel so mellow and oh so blue.

Reaching for that gun I steady my aim.

Right at my temple, I have so much shame.


Hello Satan, tonight I come.

People are stupid and oh so dumb.

Heaven was there right in front of my eyes.

I guess I shouldn’t have taken it off the prize.


Holding the trigger slowly I pull.

I want to die so tonight no bull.

Living this life is truly done.

Guess God has lost another son.


I pull and feel the bullet enter my brain.

The blood flows slowly twirling down the drain.

Tomorrow night nothing will be the same.

They will say it’s my fault; I am the one to blame.


Suicide was my calling, my five minutes of fame.

But you know how people are, “Damn he was such a lame.”

Before I killed myself no one gave a fuck.

Now look at them sad, all completely struck.


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