I poisoned myself,
many, many weeks ago with the likes of you,
and this wasn't a case of alcoholism,
or addiction,
or grass being greener on your side rather than mine,
it was a case of stupidity,
is what it was,
and what it shall continue to be in the ledger of this life,
and when she said very astutely that there was some kind of red in her ledger,
she meant she was ill fitted for happiness,
that she owed a certain magnetism to a shadowed life,
it is what we all owed to each other,
especially when we doused each other in lighter fluid,
and when we pretended to know what aftermath meant
I poisoned myself,
this much I knew to be true,
but it was for the good of the people,
for your own good,
even though only you knows what is for your own good,
or so you say
They wrapped up my wrists
and took my decisions away from me,
rightfully so,
I should say
if not for that,
I would have grown very fond of the frostbite
and the casualties of my affinity to pain,
just enough for me to leave this all out there,
out there in the cold
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