Suicide's Black

                                                         

Youth's spring of enlightened green,
accompanied by the twins, callow yellow
and disrespectable red, running blindly 
into the golden dawn of promise,
heads emptied as their leather wallets,
expressionless as white on a blank sheet of
paper and eloquently versed as a spitting cobra;
often egregiously in wanting, yet getting nothing,
oh, the dagger of discontentment cuts you down
without leaving a mark, mentally stabbing
you for life, now beryl-skies are raining again,
so you run to the nearest bottle of pills and whiskey
hiding away the age of failure, thwarted dreams,
blackest of all holes and you and you alone are the 
servant of this misery, subdued by disappointment,
for it was so easy to pluck the forbidden fruit upon
the sacred ground, though far too much an effort to
reach the unattainable fruit, so you take the clemency
and godforsaken route, the sanctimonious and 
prohibitive narrow exit and kill the Godhead.

- John Hardesty 

For all the suicide victims and families.