A rigid Mormon upbringing is probably what took my cousin down. He hanged himself at age forty. For my part, I had suicidal thoughts at twelve. I would pray at night for death, so harsh were my daylight hours. My hatred for an unresponsive god evolved into atheistic disbelief, and the urge to die receded. This poem is my way of recording my experience:

Mandolin

I saw the world through half my eyes
My heart felt half the joy
Truth is, I had yearned to die
Since I was a boy

I prayed to god at night to take me
Not let morning come
I knew the bastard would forsake me
With the rising sun

I didn’t have the kind of Dad
In whom I could confide
He told me that my thoughts were bad
And should be put aside

With half of me thus stranded in
The limbo of my head
Life played me like a mandolin
And left me feeling dead

That is beautiful and tragic, Don. Thank you for sharing it.

It's really very good.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 10/07/2020 03:47PM by Soft Machine.

A maudlin mandolin. Thanks. I enjoyed reading that.