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Make it stop, please,

Don’t torture me any longer.

My soul seems to be slowly and painfully rotting away.

Feel not sorry for me,

Just grant me my fondest wish of death so that I might find peace.

Darkness has once again begun to run ramped through my heart and soul,

And even clouding my thoughts not granting me a moments rest.

I find myself lying awake at night wondering,

Wondering if it will ever end,

Wondering what I have done to deserve this torture, this hell, that I call life.

I want to run,

Just get away,

But I know all attempts to run will fail.

So I pray,

Grant me death and,

Stop the pain!



Chet Jordan

3:10 P.M.

3-3-04