Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after;
A sense of peace, that he knew would only come with the end.
The perfect end,
Mind you, as he would want nothing less.
"Remember me when I am dead."
He sketches in the dirt,
"You know what it is to be born alone,
The way it eats at you. That you are nothing.
Even at birth, and will get no better."
"I looked into my heart to write
The greatest story of all time
and found that it was not my destiny
but now I know what it is."
And with that-
He committed suicide
Author notes
.... -whistles-
No sirrrrr, I'm not crazy.
A contest entry
- Index of First Lines by Keith.
525 points, ended March 29, 2008, 25 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Be harsh, be specific.
Comments
-
You've put some of the lines together in this. I'm sure you're not crazy, but it's a very stark ending to the poem. And there seems to be a problem with past tense mixed with present tense within the description. Thanks for entering.
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