Poem page nine
Epitath For The Self-hanged Man
- Death Wish Too
The kitchen knife is sharp
Brightly shining blade.
I sing sad songs `til night beckons unto bed.
Then curled up tight to make believe I`m dead
I wish life were a nightmare -
As I wake someone might be bringing tea
And my smile might be returned.
But don`t believe in dreams -
In twenty-four hours I`m sure
I will be here still.
Admiring Sheffield steel.
A Duel of Delight and Desperation
