Suicide Inside My Head

I committed suicide inside my head –
it was not because I had been sad;
it was not because I had been mad –
all day long I had been lying in my bed,
underneath my chin some pointing lead,
thinking of the blood that had been shed,
of the woman I had planned to wed,
all along the paths of fearful tread,
where the oceans lie in silent dread,
dying stars in gowns of crimson red,
only in my dreams you had not bled;
judging by the facts I had been fed:
I committed suicide inside my head.

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