Here, where the humming fan is still <br />and the firmament bulbs dimmed <br />flies shall over my limp form buzz- <br />a befitting funeral with no cost. <br /> <br />None shall find me <br />till my Life's glass empty seeps, <br />hung, feet above the ground, <br />once the noose has come around. <br /> <br />This deed I hurry to do quick <br />no fear nor cowardly rethink <br />and though I may rue this in Hell <br />truth is, I really do not care! <br /> <br />For what is hell to One like me <br />whom pleasures never knew, <br />to all end whom Life saw fit <br />to knuckle black and blue? <br /> <br />And though fiends govern in Hell <br />and the flames quench not in there <br />The pains, surely, must help, <br />Earth's miseries to forget! <br /> <br />So come round, O dear Noose <br />taut but firm in your silent woos, <br />about this neck duely stay <br />and my struggles do restrain. <br /> <br />When I'm found in my circular dangle <br />judge not from your spooked angle <br />nor look up with dutiful pity- <br />a most hypocritical piety. <br /> <br />Know, Life, not death, be the burden <br />this Soul was with laden <br />and though Heaven be far my luck <br />I left with a true man's gut!<br /><br />Odey Patricks<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/suicide-paradise/
