The way to Go

Every day.
At least one kid,
between twelve and eighteen
chooses to end their life.

With every breath you take,
a hundred people take their last.

Our world, is one of death.
Death, of the black and sinister kind.

One day,
someone on your street may die, and you will not notice.
You will continue on, as if they had never existed.

Animals are beat.
And trees we slaughter with cold heat.

When will this suffering end?

But the only sure way, to escape.
The hunger,
      the greed,
the anger
   and the pain

...is to end yourself too.

Imagine.
If falling eighteen stories, at eighty two kilometers and hour;
how would it be, at four?

would there even be time, to feel the gut-wrenching terror, of the drop?
The wind whistling past, the once tiny figures below becoming bigger in a heartbeat,
can't breathe, eyes forced open by the wind roaring past you as you make the deadly plunge.
Would it be the same?

I wonder,
if it would hurt much.
Probably not.
For you would most likely be killed instanty.

Imagine the screams of those around
the panicking teachers
the wailing students.

And the blood,
slowly seeping into the tarmac.

I think,
that it would be the best way to go.
Out with a BANG
Not a fizzle.

And that way,
you wouldn't be forgotten
unlike that person who lived
down the street.