muse while I’m pondering
about the worth of it all,
about whether or not to answer the call.
For my despair sings a song
seductively inviting me along
to the promise of a life,
to the promise of a knife.
Sheer stubborness keeps me standing
before all that whispered demanding,
and the knowledge of what this end
will do to my family and my friends.
But knowing that, my weary grief
remains tempted by a promise of relief.