The clock ticked almost in the same way it had for the past three weeks,
Agonizingly slow, as if it had something to say but instead chose not to speak.
But tonight there was a bit more urgency in each passing minute and each passing hour,
Because soon this thing that had a grip on him would finally lose it’s power.
Every lyric from every song hit like tons of bricks,
Haunting words having provided this death by a thousand pin pricks.
But tonight was time to land the very final blow,
And just as intended, not one other person seemed to know.
The wheels had been set in motion several days before,
He’d known for a while what this night would have in store.
He’d left his job simply saying he need some personal time,
And when asked if he was okay he looked at them and lied.
It was the same response he’d give to anyone who tried to ask,
All that was left was one last and final task.
Everything was set in place and the hour was drawing near,
Never again would anyone suffer due to his presence here.
The battle that he felt that he could no longer win,
The hurting of those he loved, all of that would soon end.
So up he turned the vodka and down his throat went some pills,
One more step and the world would be rid of all his ills.
The intoxicating fumes should have been a deterrent,
And no one has been able to figure out how they weren’t.
It was finished, now all that was left was to wait to die,
But he realized that something seemed to be awry.
The clock that had been in what seemed to be slow motion,
Had essentially stopped and time seemed to be frozen.
The death he awaited hadn’t yet arrived,
As minutes seemed like hours it resonated more and more that he hadn’t died.
Panic ran through his mind as he thought this should have been over quicker,
And new sensations began to overcome him as he felt sicker and sicker.
Sickness began to give way to pure physical pain,
And not just any pain, the kind that leads you pleading for mercy in vain.
He convinced himself that he could tough it out till he breathed his last,
So he just waited for the end to come, praying it would get there fast.
But that’s not the way that things would go that night,
There was only one thing he could do, so full of shame, and void of all his pride,
With the pain too intense and a fear of failure all too real he called out for help from another,
A cry he absolutely didn’t want to make, a cry to his mother.
As he saw her face while loaded onto a stretcher he processed what he’d done,
As it turns out, the battle had just begun.