Oct 25, 2012
It's there in the back of my mind
sincerest, hopeful thoughts; sweet suicide.
In the dreamless nights' breaking dawn
as I sup on pills to achieve a yawn
I feel the urge, the sudden doubts
I start to cry, I want to shout.
I call the doctors, nurses, joints
but none of them get my point;
I want it over, I can't see a way out
I've counted all the sheep you can count.
I want it over, so I start to pray
but God's out-of-office until Sunday.
My heart is breaking, barely there
a spot of pain remains, a single care
for those that I would leave behind
the mess they'd have, the mess that's mine.
But I want out! Please, any way...
please God, please, but He won't say.
So I call a number, found on the net
my list ditch effort, my final bet...
and I tell that girl, in ringing tones
"Please, do not hang up the phone."
"I need you to listen, please believe,
I need you to hear me, I need you to see."
"I was diagnosed with an incurable disease,"
"and I need some help, so tell me, please,"
"tell me that's unfair, tell me it's not right,"
"tell me that this isn't my last and final night."
"I need someone to speak the way I need to hear."
"I hope you understand through all these falling tears."
And she's quiet, and she's nice, after all, it's what she does
she listens to the questions "Why?" and she tells you "Because."
And she finally agrees, she says what the doctors won't
she says that it's unfair, and she asks you "Please, don't,"
"Don't hurt yourself, don't give up, call and find a solution."
"I can't promise you a happy ending, I can't give you retribution."
"But I think you need to see someone, to tell them what you've told me."
"And I'd encourage you, always and ever, always Believe."
And they're words I know. That I remember.
A promise to God, forever and ever.
And I cry, and she listens, because that's "what I do."
and I tell her that I'm sorry, she tells me that she knew.
And I say "I don't know if there are any more good tomorrows."
And she says "No one knows" and she says there are more sorrows.
But she doesn't want me to give up, not now, at least, not tonight
it's like she somehow knows that it was always in me to fight.
But sometimes, you need someone to say
"It's not fair, and it may not be okay."
And it's sometimes good, when they don't try
to promise you everything, no pretending, no lie.
And I'm tired, and I'm sore, and I'm a weak, weak soul,
it seems all my sins are come to call, each one black as coal.
And I keep praying in hopes of some miracle down the way
I keep looking for someone else to say
"It's not fair. It might be your fault. It may not be okay...
but tomorrow, there's a chance, tomorrow's another day."