• two in my hand,
    both in which i stare, transfixed,
    wondering, oh so carefully considering that chance
    of more than two in my hand.

    how many does it take to die?
    to challenge life with a guarenteed lose?
    two at hand, then one, two, four, or five,
    but wondering still what option to choose.

    options.
    two at hand, just like pills.
    choose one by just a swift motion,
    and both medication and choice tumble down you choked throat.

    crown of glory?
    crown of death?
    yes, chosed is the crown of gory,
    to which murky expectations have been met.

    bestowed upon my head
    is the thorned crown of life, then and there,
    with just few words left unsaid
    because they are killed away [i do dare]

    i do dare the fields of sorrow;
    i do dare Satan himself;
    i do dare a day without tomorrow,
    with my troubles left undelt.

    missed, i doubt i will be.
    the matter-of-fact idea has left me forever engrossed.
    the death is certainly blood-clean,
    because i took an overdose.