They found my dead body,

Just setting in a chair,

All of my appendages limber,

My head not even there,

A shotgun lying on the floor,

Could have been suicide,

Maybe I couldn’t take anymore.

They pulled me from the river this morning,

Skin all pale blue from the cold.

Couldn’t move a muscle,

They were frozen by the cold.

On my face a little smirk,

Could have been suicide,

Didn’t like the life I was dealt.

They cut the rope from the rafter,

With thirteen knots around my neck,

Which was snapped into pieces,

My feet dangled,

Doing a little dance on air,

Could have been suicide,

I must have just quit trying to care.

They pulled my charred body,

From the ashes of my precipice,

My body unidentifiable,

Save the smile on my face,

And the Zippo melted to my hand,

Could have been suicide,

Since my life I couldn’t stand.

They found my dead body,

Soaking in a worm bubble bath,

The water scarlet red,

Purple around where my wrists were slashed,

That same little smirk,

Came when reality crashed,

Could have been suicide,

Escape from broken hearts past.

They could find your dead body

If you cannot last,

Tattered and broken,

By shadows of the past,

Released by the voices perhaps?

They will just look at you and say,

Could have been suicide,

Another soul gone away.