curse
i am
a horrid curse
upon my
own life, it seems . . .
damned
if i do, if i don't
do, what?
anything, nothing . . .
where
am i to go?
what
am i to do?
Death
speaks to me
full
of eloquence
promises
softer landings . . .
awaits
with open arms
begs
not, as i consider
knowing
It has the power
over
me, my heart . . .
calls
softly, beckoning
me
toward that ravine
off
of which i may
throw
myself, my life
ending
this horrid curse
which
is me . . .
kecline / 041397