Do & Die

We, all of us, commit suicide.
Slowly worn out; our healthy young hides.

Some with fire, some smoke, some drink.
Some, into consciousness’s depth do sink.

Some wait to fall from their own decay.
Alone, at Christmas; Lovers in May.

With leaden bullets & hearts bereaved.
With bitterly borne small tragedies.

Inside our hearts & inside our minds.
We’ll self-snuff with whatever we find.

Even choosing life’s choosing to die.
We, all of us, commit suicide.