Suicidally Yours

Sometimes
No.
All the time.
I contemplate suicide.
Yes. Me.
I wonder if
flying out my window
would be a better alternative
than praying for a miracle.

And many times I think
Maybe there isn't a god
Then there's nothing to fear
at all

The thud
at the end of the fall
would only
exist
as a mark of me
The end of me

But some poor
wrong place wrong time passerby
wouldn't see it as anything
more than a big mess