I have lately been contemplating taking my life
The question is, how?
I live on the seventh floor with a veranda
The falling is not bad I shudder by the impact
Also, upsetting people.
A shotgun in my mouth blowing my brain out Is too ghastly,
Ernest Hemingway did it shoot himself
Blood and gore all over the place.
A 22-calibre pistol should do it, but I dislike
To take a handful of pills will not do I would
Throw up and sweat profoundly.
I wish there were an injection that made me
Disappear from the face of the earth.
Only an enduring question
Where the hell did, he goes?