Sacrifice
NOTE:: I wrote this poem years ago. Of course, I'd like to think my writing has matured. I wanted to share some old material with you. Also, just so people know, I wasn't close to anyone who had killed themself. My feelings are incorporated in here, but this is mainly a fictional poem about a person who's lover commited suicide.
Why do you do what you do?
Take me with you. I need to go to.
Something was morphing you.
You used to understand, you knew I was weak, rarely strong.
The pills and the vodka were more than just wrong.
When I saw you in the bathroom, your wrists freshly red,
I wished, immediately, that it was me, instead.
To make up for what I may have said, I'll take one in the head.
I will take my life, too.
It is my sacrifice to you.
Why do you do what you do?
Take me with you. I need to go to.
Something was morphing you.
You used to understand, you knew I was weak, rarely strong.
The pills and the vodka were more than just wrong.
When I saw you in the bathroom, your wrists freshly red,
I wished, immediately, that it was me, instead.
To make up for what I may have said, I'll take one in the head.
I will take my life, too.
It is my sacrifice to you.