Suicide

I’ve undermined myself into a hole that is
Too thick for my nails to dig
And do I regret it,
No,
But oh how my fingers have bled.
I have a state of mind like the dead,
Laying in a flowery bed
And hearing the prayers helping me to heaven;
Lo, I am alive among the buried;
Or buried alive,
Each envying the other with greed,
A jealous need
To have a taste by the spoon.
Why do we wish to die or even think of it;
It is inevitable in the years to come,
And the day will come
And you will wish to be alive.