To-do: Kill self

Every night I kill myself

A noose hanging on the fan

Taking 10 Paracetamols at a time

Or just cutting my wrists

Knowing that the only way to feel loved

Is to leave

Every night I go to a deathless sleep

I wake up to the sound of alarm

Cocooned by nothingness

There’s no joy in waking up

Nor sadness in not dying

It was just me

Looking at my corpse

Of my yesterdays

Thinking will I at least get tears for my funeral

As you read from the scriptures for God to bless my doomed soul

But I am too scared to find out

Too terrified to know

That death

Will only leave me emptier still.

Photo by Anna Shvets from Pexels