Friday, August 4, 2017

On Suicide

Someone finds you.
Someone finds you, and others find out.
How would you cope, walking in to a room of death?
The morbid sorrow hangs in the air,
Unspoken weight that fills your thoughts.
Matter cannot be created, nor can it be destroyed.
The pain you feel, your memories, your thoughts,
Passed on to the next.
You need not suffer alone,
What lives in you has forever lived.

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