A Good Way To Die

I’ll never understand why people think death is bad,

When I die it’ll be the best day I’ve ever had.

Finally being able to end my melancholic life,

It excites me thinking of the end of the strife.

I know there are some who think it’s wrong,

But I think suicide is as nice as a bird’s song.

Being able to choose the way you die,

Is something everyone should get, girl or guy.

For doing so they say I’ll rot in hell,

But The Devil is someone I can easily quell.

After all the misery that she put me through,

So say what you want until your face turns blue.

I’m my own person and I can do as I please,

To kill myself is as easy as a breeze.

Death My Personal Life Poetry Supernatural

Post Apocalypse Nusery Rhyme #002 My Colourful World

I love my world full of colour. In the sky and on the ground. There are so many colors I can’t count them all, but these are my favorite colours of them all.

The brown of the sea as far as the eyesees.

The gray of the sky is all that can be spied.

The red on the ground of the ones that were found.

The green of the monsters that make one a goner.

The yellow of the sun is the only time to have fun.

The pink of the guts of the ones that went nuts.

The blue of the eyes that show that one has died.

The purple of the bruises of those who are accused.

The white of the snow that hide monsters down below.

The black of the blood that spew out of monsters like a flood.

 

 

 

Death Graphic Nusery Ryhmes Pain Supernatural Twisted Meanings

Post Apocalypse Nusery Rhyme #001 Ronnie and Ruby

Ronnie and Ruby on the run,

Because they were having too much fun.

Too close they came to the nun,

and now she wants them as a bun.

 

Ronnie and Ruby on the run,

Neither of them has a gun.

Ronnie was faster and Ruby was gone,

But soon after Ronnie was none.

 

Ronnie and Ruby on the run,

They were out before the sun.

They didn’t listen to anyone,

So two children the nun as won.

 

Death Nusery Ryhmes Supernatural Uncategorized

Drip, Drip

Alone she kneels on the ice,

As liquid falls in groups of trice.

The piercing wind consumes her in it’s cold,

But it’s not the reason her emotions are so bold.

Echoes of a sound come from the icy hilltop,

Drip, drip, drop.

 

Clear and crimson circles in the snow appear,

The perfect blend of vivid and austere.

Her tears aren’t for the pain,

They are for the love she never gained.

She does this for the suffering to stop,

Drip, drip, slop.

 

A silvery blade in her hand,

Causes the blood to paint the snow that’s so bland.

Everyone tried to help her,

Except the one who could make her as she were.

Now her blood and emotions are in a glop,

Drip, drip, sob.

 

Her skin turns to the color of the snow,

And her sobbing begins to slow.

Her gray-blue eyes are hidden by her eyelids,

And her breathing is dull like her life is.

Her smile signifies her last yopp,

Drip, drip, plop.

 

 

Death Emotional Loneliness My Personal Life Poetry Twisted Meanings