IHY - A Poem

What do you do when you are trapped each and everyday

On a foundation built of misery, sadness and decay

In a house laced with pretty decorations and ornery aesthetics

Yet poisoned with loathe and severe malpractice

The floor is cold, hallway reeks of dead

As I steal away to my room

For the fifth time this week, as my heart shrivels up from the constant dread

And what you don’t realize is that I have tried a number of times

To cut it out for you, arrange it and dress it up real nice

On a plate caked in red in the garment of purity,

Bitterness, desperation, longing, and a lack of ingenuity

But the organ won’t come loose, tendons fight to keep it at bay

The silent tears keep crashing as you turn the other way.

It rained hard on the night I cracked open my bedroom window

And stared straight ahead into the strangely welcoming black of the revolver’s barrel

The chill of the steel cooled my fiery tongue and relaxed the senses

That have eaten away at my insides for far too long, and you didn’t even have the sense to

Ask me if I was ok, alright, fine; The delivery was enough to justify the decision.

For the first time in a while,  I am unafraid, unashamed, ready and prepared for what lies ahead

I pull the trigger as the stars rise above over my head.