Suicidal ideation,
more a pastime,
than a way of life.
I’m a pauper,
in a poor man’s grave.
I was never satisfied.
I’m alive now,
in a whole new way.
A place where I was
before I came
into this space.
Wishing is a hollow point,
and hope is just a carnival.
I’m on a ride,
my mind is so sure,
that I wanted something more.
Strip me
in the cold, night air.
So cold,
it could freeze diamonds.
I’m a pauper,
in a poor man’s grave.
Whatever I was looking for,
I’m finding.
Right here,
right now,
I’m finding out.
HG – 2019
