This Poem was Submitted By: Mark D. Kilburn On Date: 2001-04-08 19:14:17 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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    The suicide man came by my house again,  he rapped on my door and my window pain.     I could feel him outside just milling around,  wherever he stood, not a footprint was found.     He finally left and went away  saying he'd return some other day.     An ill wind blew him sadly down south,  that's where my friend was found, shot in the mouth.     I wish he had done what my mom always said,  "Guard over the thoughts that come into your head."     Thoughts can be bullets for the suicide man,  guard the door well when you're making a stand.     The suicide man does his job so damn well,  when it's someone you know, you will feel so much hell.     He will pound on the door, and if you let him in,  you'll be dragged to the depths, of a river of sin.     He's as cold as death and as hot as fire,  he will utter some truth, but all in all he's a liar.     You can defeat him with words my mother always said,  guard over the thoughts coming into your head.     Rich is gone now for the rest of our days,  yet I know that God works, in mysterious ways.     There must be a blessing in this tragedy,  but these tears in my eyes make it so hard to see.     I'll guard over the thoughts coming into my head,  and say a prayer for Rich before I go to bed.     He can only be seen now, in my memory,  keep praying to pieces he has set himself free.

Copyright © April 2001 Mark D. Kilburn

Additional Notes:
I have lost 5 friends to suicide, all very young. Rich was 23. This was 16 years ago. I wish the youth of today knew how short it is, how fast it goes and no matter what we face the sun always comes up full of hope and promise. If only they can get through the night. Thanks for reading. P.S. Window pane is spelled pain purposely

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