Suicide Is Not An Option

I find myself weaving the final stitches
Of a noose I have been working on for a while
I swore I’d use it by the time it was complete
If me and my sanity hadn’t reconciled

Each thread representing a flawed emotion
Which tightly woven together makes up my life
If you’re the one to cut me down from the rafters
Love, patience and understanding must be your knife

I find myself with a gun in my right hand
With only one bullet left in the cold chamber
I hand the loaded pistol with safety off
Blindly in to the hands of a complete stranger

Does this represent me opening my heart
And risking a life of abject, dismal sorrow
This God given gift of love is worth the risk
And cupid’s bullets can pierce deeper than arrows

I find myself perched on the edge of a cliff
And at this point in time I am feeling unsure
If the wind that’s blowing me towards the verge
Is real or in fact just another metaphor

That is representing all of the worries
Which try to push me to the seascape rocks below
Either way the wind will one day blow me down
But with wings of wisdom I will at least fall slow