Allure?

Certainly.

Why then glamorized
In fiction and fact
By those seeking Earth’s lucre?

Or is this appeal personal,
To an agonized soul
In pain through hairs and toes
And mind-scrabblings irrational.

There can be no seduction without life.
Living is essential.
The paradox
Of wanting death in life
Is a fool’s paradise.

Just as money and fame
Pass,
Leaving empty traces;
So too is Death empty.

Pain, for all its horror,
Is real.
Is honest.

I, only I, alone in full view,
With weapon in hand, mouth closed,
Hoping a voice, not a muse,
Will call, will save me from supposed

Dread I do not understand or love.
Stay my hand! Come sanity!
I cannot return to the above;
I dread the eternal calamity!

Keep me!  Hold me! Stave
Wretched mind darts against time!
I have no time; naught to save
For imagined moments sublime.

No help has come. I am alone.

Many times I wondered at your quietness,
And why you always sat so far off in the corner.
My frineds and I had lunch and talked,
While you usually ate apart,
Sometimes we discussed your quiet manner;
Your ways always seemed difficult to understand.

You and I were never really acquainted,
Although you were always just across the street.
And we met each morning and each afternoon,
I never thought we might actually talk,
Or say more than “Hello,” and “good-bye.”
Now I know that when I saw you walking yesterday,

I should have stopped and said something to help,
So that maybe you wouldn’t have killed yourself.