Suicide Spoon

DC Martin

Down deep does it stir, 
In my heart, in my mind,
Ripped out by the roots, 
like dead fruit off the vine,
Touches a place so dark 
a place oh so cold, 

leaving nothing left but a story untold,
What might have been, what never was, 
taking what was to become, 
this is just what it does, 

Put to my lips, a taste sour and sweet, 
nostalgia so thick it’ll put you to sleep,
That suicide spoon 
how it mixes and folds, 

stirs what’s inside all in to one bowl,
Nothing surrounds, till nothing survives, 
wrecking all hope, as it touches all lives,
You’ll hope and you’ll yearn 
for it all to end very soon,
But it’s all you can eat, 
when it’s the Suicide Spoon. 

The meal never ends, 
and you won’t get your fill,
Though your cup runneth over, 
it won’t ever spill,
Leaving all that you love 
to cry and to swoon,
That’s the legacy passed on 
by the Suicide Spoon.