That’s it, i’m done, no more trying
I’m sick of all this fucking lying
You finally drove me completly insane
And now my life will continue in pain
I hope your happy with what you’ve done
Cause now its tme to finish my run
With this gun i hold to my head
I’ll die right here lying on my bed
The cuts on my wrists were just the start
Only to destract the pain in my heart
And now i’m finally done with it all
My brains will splatter all over the wall
And in the morning my body will be found
Screams of terror will be the only sound
And in my hand there is a note
The reason i did it is what i wrote
For on that night one year ago
My heart took a tragic blow
As i witnessed my lover’s death
For she too pulled the trigger on her final breath

This poem was written/submitted by Cory Wood.

In the face without masks
Death is a woman
In the moment you know yourself
Death is a woman
At the end of all questions
Death is a woman
As the well of all answers
Death is a woman
At the end of all regrets
Death is a woman
In the liberation through tears
Death is a woman
As the relief from battle
Death is a woman
In the loving embrace
Death is a woman
As the end of all pain
Death is a woman
As the return to the source
Death is a woman
In the dreamless sleep
Death is a woman
In the endless peace
Death is a woman

This poem was written/submitted by Ulrike Gerbig.

I close my eyes
The walls are closing in
Can’t breathe
Death so close
Our fingers touch
Hand caressing my neck
Neither fight no flee
There can be no other way
Won’t cover my eyes
Won’t cover my heart
Cover me with darkness
No light shall enter
My life is my own
No other way
Nowhere to run
Stand tall
Conquer fear
In truth, there is no fear
I am death
Death is my truth
My yearning
My comfort
Let it come
There is no fear

This poem was written/submitted by Ayten Ali.

Death is so permanent
for those who haven’t tried it

Death is too tragic
when destiny shows up early

Death is anything
and everything
like those enjoying wine

Death is a white sky
at night and everything is great
for those who want to imagine

Death is playing banjo
songs without time

Death is a monster movie come alive
for those that have not died

Death has no direction

Death dies out another cigarette

Death is always on vacation

Death rolls the dice
behind whispers of prayers

Death is slow motion

Death is better than sex

Death is good as long as it is somebody else

Death is a sweet symphony
when it ‘s right

This poem was written/submitted by Charles Lara.

Death is so permanent
for those who haven’t tried it

Death is too tragic
when destiny shows up early

Death is anything
and everything
like those enjoying wine

Death is a white sky
at night and everything is great
for those who want to imagine

Death is playing banjo
songs without time

Death is a monster movie come alive
for those that have not died

Death has no direction

Death dies out another cigarette

Death is always on vacation

Death rolls the dice
behind whispers of prayers

Death is slow motion

Death is better than sex

Death is good as long as it is somebody else

Death is a sweet symphony
when it ‘s right

Charles Lara

It was not death, for I stood up,
And all the dead lie down.
It was not night, for all the bells
Put out their tongues for noon.

It was not frost, for on my flesh
I felt siroccos crawl,
Nor fire, for just my marble feet
Could keep a chancel cool.

And yet it tasted like them all,
The figures I have seen
Set orderly for burial
Reminded me of mine,

As if my life were shaven
And fitted to a frame
And could not breathe without a key,
And ’twas like midnight, some,

When everything that ticked has stopped
And space stares all around,
Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns,
Repeal the beating ground;

But most like chaos, stopless, cool,
Without a chance, or spar,
Or even a report of land
To justify despair.

This poem was written/submitted by Emily Dickinson.

Life after death
death after life
no matter what
death or life
in our life there will always be strife.

This poem was written/submitted by Tristan Martin.

Listless dregs of a dying soul

Flayed and abused by the poisons of life

Rancid cloyed steam of wet tumour, red coals

Cold vapour of ruin, of horror, of strife

Fearful shadows of pain and of blight

Crystallized steel at the blade of the knife

Cracked voices that howl at the edge of the night

Come death! Blessed cure for the torment of life

Noxious the odour of long rotted thoughts

Their ragged wet fibres I’ll weave as a shroud

A fine garment of death for the pilgrim we bought

The evil in flesh who speaks now aloud

See! See the pained glory of meat in the pot

A huddle of monkeys brings blade to the flesh

In rank concentration against god do they plot

Their dark chthonic spells our souls do enmesh

Of blood and of semen and spears and of gold

Of rapine and murder and ships and of gales

Of shouts to great Zeus on the breath of the bold

Of these things are wrought all of humankind’s tales

Within the tight coffin of life we are caught

Shut off from the icy cool dark of night’s hell

With only one thing can our freedom be bought

Flow blood! Cease Heart! I relinquish the shell

The dregs of my mind tore open the rift

Compelled and stirred up by a surfeit of beer

My mind to my demons I made as a gift

Leaving me lost, deluded, quite queer.

This poem was written/submitted by Keith Rowley.

Again came the day of black lettered-
On which, the cruel fortune took the rays of my heart.

A couple of years back, on this very day,
My sweet child passed away.
Who, for her sweet four short years,
Had brought in my life a sway of gay.

Emptied my lap, munched my love,
Smiling and without uttering a single word,
Went off my crazy dove.

None has come yet, none will come,
To fulfil the empty place of my nun.
Silence prevails everywhere in my pensive mind,
Where all my griefs and pangs hide.

My fruit of love, let me know your whereabouts,
Siding all bindings, I shall meet you without any doubts.

This poem was written/submitted by paromita.m07.

You’ll find — it when you try to die –
The Easier to let go –
For recollecting such as went –
You could not spare — you know.

And though their places somewhat filled –
As did their Marble names
With Moss — they never grew so full –
You chose the newer names –

And when this World — sets further back –
As Dying — say it does –
The former love — distincter grows –
And supersedes the fresh –

And Thought of them — so fair invites –
It looks too tawdry Grace
To stay behind — with just the Toys
We bought — to ease their place -

This poem was written/submitted by Emily Dickinson.