A Suicide Poem

Someday I will take this knife,
And this is how I will end my life.
It’ll be different from the rest,
Cutting big gashes across my chest.
I cannot say when I will meet this fate,
For it will be at a later date.
And you will see that it’s not clear,
That I reached my fate so near.
My parents will see me inside the casket,
Think how much better I was in the hospital basket.
People will be asking how,
When I was supposed to die eighty years from now,
In lying there like a big stone,
And the living will start to moan
At the remembrance of my life,
(Was it caused by that pipe?)
Everyone had hoped for the best,
That the doctors could heal my chest,
To stop all of the bleeding,
And it was more that they were needing
To know, and this is how it goes:
They tormented me with their woes,
So I took my life hoping to send
A message to everyone, hoping that my end
Would bring them happiness, but I failed
I guess that I got nailed,
And they will wonder why my death wasn’t clear,
But it resulted from too much beer.