I wrote this poem in 1995 - I was 15 or 16, and although a year had passed I was still a bit of a suicidal mess following my own run in with the grim reaper. Anyway a few years ago I created an image inspired by the poem. I just figured i'd put them together.
She She holds the gun up to her head, And grasps it with her teeth. Waiting for that final breath. For her life to cease. She pulls the trigger until it’s taught, Then pulls just a little more. It’s not as easy as she thought, Yet her body hits the floor. Her wound it bleeds as if it were a river, Flowing from her pain. Never again will she see the sunshine, Nor will she feel the rain. Forever she is gone from here, No longer feeling bad. Suicide is always near When she ends the life she had. |  |
Funnily enough the person I now think of whenever I hear this song also happened to say they liked the original of the photo, before I killed her. * thank god I've gotten better over the past few years - this image is shockingly bad!
Silence can kill.
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