Of Suicide and the Wrecking Ball

Night falls over you
As a soft, silk gown.
You are silent
And ill.

The worst is over
But it's repeated
Everyday
You stand empty.

Hold me in your hand,
Again.
I return
To the
Place of my childhood.

The wind hustles
Over the asphalt graves
That used to be
The way out.

If you need anything
Ill be here
Splitting my time
Between thoughs

Of suicide and the wrecking ball.