Whenever Bill went to town
The ladies thought him sweet
He could never be with a frown
and his clothes were pressed
Like a sailor from the Fleet
So he always went about
His dimples bright and lovely
Morning Sam, Morning Kate
Morning Pam, Morning Nate
Then one dewy morning
He realized he was tired
Tired of being him, even though he hadn't a damn clue who he was
He was tired of his heart hurting
Always hurting so much
He was tired of being lost
Tired of people realizing he wasn't fine
One calm Sunday night
He took a knife to his wrist
And at the end of it all
He thought how beautiful it all was
His blood like the flooded Nile
His blood flower red on the white bathroom tile.
~Ridhwan.
