Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
An Option
Every time they leave,
I am almost certain
That they are gone for good,
And I prepare myself
To be severely sad.
But I see things,
Bad things but
Treasure visions nevertheless.
Ancient-like visions
That leave me hurting.
Visions of me always hurting.
When they leave,
That pit of depression
That once had been filled,
Will be dug up once again.
Only this time,
I will be buried in it.
Little things keep me wondering…
Was it imperative for
Him to brush his teeth
If I will never see his
Smiles ever again?
Or if I will ever hear
Any wisdom, ever again.
I’m lost again.
Suicide may just
Be an option.
July 5, 2004
Suge
I am almost certain
That they are gone for good,
And I prepare myself
To be severely sad.
But I see things,
Bad things but
Treasure visions nevertheless.
Ancient-like visions
That leave me hurting.
Visions of me always hurting.
When they leave,
That pit of depression
That once had been filled,
Will be dug up once again.
Only this time,
I will be buried in it.
Little things keep me wondering…
Was it imperative for
Him to brush his teeth
If I will never see his
Smiles ever again?
Or if I will ever hear
Any wisdom, ever again.
I’m lost again.
Suicide may just
Be an option.
July 5, 2004
Suge
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
An Option
An Option
