The Art Of Suicide

Ever think that,
you're not good enough?
That the days are too painful,
That life is just too rough?

I understand you,
I feel the pain.
You cut your wrists,
just so you can stay sane. 

People label you, 
people think they know who you are.
Just because you're depressed,
they're wrong about you, by far.

The knife is so sharp,
it gleams in the light. 
Yes, it hurts,
but, it feels so right.

You get so numb,
you cant feel anymore. 
It makes you want to,
slam your head in a door. 

There are many ways, 
to throw in the towel.
Yes, they will hurt,
you'll cry and howl.

You can tie a rope,
to the ceiling. 
Jump from where you're standing,
to end all feeling.

You can overdose,
pop that pill.
That'd be easy,
a painless kill.

You can take a gun,
to the head,
make sure you do it right,
or you won't be dead.

Take a plastic bag, 
cut off the ventalation.
you'll be dead in ten minutes,
you'll die of suffacation.

Tie a brick to your foot,
and jump in a pool.
You'll stuggle,
but just keep try and keep your cool. 

Feel like nobody,
will miss you?
When someone talks about your death,
they'll go, "Wait, Who?"

Everyone would be happier,
if you decided to depart?
Take a blade, 
and drive it through your heart?

You'll be gone forever,
there is no going back. 
Go run and get your knife,
from your ruck sack.

Take one last cut,
before you decide.
Now stash the kife away,
and the cut, you will hide.

Is this what you want?
To end your life. 
What about your kids?
What about your wife?