Rose of suicide
I sang all night, the night I cried,
I cried whole night, the night I died.
As I woke up, I could see my own body,
It felt little giddy, it felt real shoddy.
I went up and down, I went here and there,
I found myself hanging, in the soaking thin air.
I saw no long tunnel, I saw no bright light,
I ventured in the air like the freshly cut kite.
Then I saw a lake, a green fake lake,
Was it real lake or a cake angels bake?
I saw little angel, like a soft puppy,
Her eyes were slim, her lips were sloppy
Her wings where white, here eyes were green,
She was the cute fairy of my quintessential dream.
We saw the pink sun, we saw the grey showers,
On the bank of the lake we talked for hours.
“You hear the bells toll, you hear the black crow,
It’s been a long time, you must now go.”
“Take this red rose”, her sweet words said,
“Smell, this and I’ll come to you, if you feel sad”
She took me to a cliff, and shoved me down,
I crashed on my head, but I woke up in my bed.
No it wasn’t me, I wasn’t any dead.
It was my cute and lovely dream, which died instead.
I felt so lonely, so teary so low,
And so as I felt that, I had never felt so.
I took a decision, I picked the sharp knife,
To meet her again, I ended my life.
And then I started singing, I hummed all night,
The night I cried, was the night I died.