I want to go from this world, but not through suicide: A poem 

I am not voracious, but sometimes loquacious 

Though my voice is always capitalised by the treacherous 

I’d love to be straightforward, even though I am suspicious 

that my word is hijacked making it poisonous and vicious 

How is the valiant troubled pride in myself 

end up saying: Nothing matters, what else? 

I am convicted that love and loyalty is my locket 

I never asked for anyone to fill my pocket 

And I can say that everyone knows 

that I was made subject, but never chose 

For, if evil ever forces itself on my side,  

I’d rather go from this world, but not through suicide