death poetry

drip
what little life was left is slowly bleeding away
i don't know how to stop it now
drip
it seemed like a good idea at the time
i guess it still does
drip
what a mess
i didn't mean to make a mess
maybe i should clean up
drip
i don't think
i can anymore
drip
i just don't have the energy
i'm so tired
drip
i think i'll lay here for a while
i'm sure i'll feel better soon....
drip....

written feb 3 1998 during a deep depression..