What was she thinking when she killed herself?
by Shen Qiaoyun
The blood still glistens on the blade of her knife;
When no one was looking, she’d taken her life.
Alone she lies, angelic and calm,
She’ll no more awaken when tomorrow comes.
Is that a smile on her pale, ashen face?
Or a grimace wrung out of a lifeless place?
Would that for a minute she can speak again;
Would that for a second I can hear her pain.
But death holds fast to those it calls;
Questions left unanswered on the parabolic wall.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
What of the years that had led to her end?
What had befallen that her heart couldn’t mend?
Was there naught in her eyes could preserve life’s sanctity?
Love, money, health? Or family or beauty?
Did she look at the world and see only strangers?
A world so unkind it could only slowly change her?
Did she find sleep every night on alcoholic wings?
Was it rest from the weariness that ceaseless tears bring?
How many troubled years had she carried the pain?
On the day she decided that death must reign?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
And there laid out on her fresh made death bed,
She’d cut herself, and her last tears shed.
Was she cradled by bliss, did peaceful death slake her?
Was she wracked by doubt and did agony take her?
Did she die with a smile as she whispered, “I’m done.”
Or did she yearn for a moment for the deed undone?
Did her life flash past like a runaway train?
Did she weep for the ones who’d inherit her pain?
As her hands went slack and the knife did fall,
What was she thinking? Was she thinking at all?
The brown matter still taints the white of his garment,
In the silence of the night, he shitted nosily like in torment
Alone he squatted, pained and drained,
He dare not stand as his pants are stained
Is that a grimace on his tanned, sweaty face?
Or a smile arisen because he crapped in this place?
Would that for a minute he can stand again;
Would that for a second we can share his pain
But the stomach groans, even when no one calls;
Dirty smears left to fester on the toilet wall
Monster,
Things fine? You ok?
are you alright, girl?
i really hope this doesn’t refer to ‘lost’…
QY are you ok?
shell told me you were feeling down these days…
*hugs*
feel better soon k?
Need more bakkwa to feel better? =PP
Thank you all for your concern. It’s very sweet.
I’ll be fine. Eventually. No need to worry. =)
But…
NOBODY LIKE MY POEM MEH?? =P
Like! Very the realism…that’s why everybody asked about it mah :P
Cousie,
It’s a great poem…very good, lots of rhyming words. Got me thinking about life….and won’t everyone be happier dead? But then again, that’s not what life is meant to be. You know what I mean, right?
/sent chills down me spine. think it worked. but cheer up yeah.
Here’s my go at writing poems.
I’m an amateur and no where as good as you guys but thought I’d share it anyway.
“In the corner he sat that night
Waiting for someone to shed some light
Had he not been a moment too late
He would have caught up with his mate
Now barely sober he lies, a pile of mess.
At the train station, not much of a “damsel in distress”.
Still the regrets and anguish abound
Will she ever be back this time around?
All the words and all the effort
Away they went, just like Little Miss Muffet.
Where did they go wrong?
Why did this taxi take so long?
Clutching his head in his hands,
cockroaches scurried about his pants.
It took was a moment of impulse that fateful day.
No one just wanted to give way!
Had he not lashed out at his spouse with that baseball bat,
Surely she wouldn’t have left the house with her favourite hat.
Deep down he must have known he was wrong,
deep down he could hear now an endless sad song.
So near yet so far…
Damn! Why… that lousy car…”
Wow…..See writing has all of the answers