Thomas

Content warning: poem touches upon thoughts of suicide

Today I came home to a note on the table... 

A stagnant white sheet, like a dizzy cloud 

And it said: 
"I've packed my bags, and I'm long gone. 

My car hit the road - and every mile I 

drive, is a mile further from you. You're

not all to blame; it just hasn't been the

same - so don't be too harsh on yourself,

K? Cause I know you're a bundle of fears

- you know your inadequacy like the 

back of the hands (you said you'd never 

beat me with) -  and I wonder if your tears 

are already trickling down, like the rain

on those silent Sundays, mundane." 

Looming overhead, before I go to bed 

There's a storming brewing like I ain't 

seen before And I look to the noose;

ask God if he's angry... well we'll 

certainly find that out very soon