His Final Solution

The bridge is never ending and the steps taken slow
Each footfall a testament to the desire to throw himself over the edge
The sound of the road nearby becoming louder in his ears
He closes his eyes and hears  the thundering pantechnicons
racing to the next town, driver grabbing a bite to eat
On the move, oblivious to the world outside his cab
He imagines how easily  he could take just one step, off the sidewalk,
into the path of the monster bearing down on him.
One second and everything finished, peace, termination, over.
In his pocket rattles the bottle filled with pills
Small, white, sugar coated but acrid to taste
A mimicry of his life…
His hand , cold and clammy, grips it in a passionate hold,
This could be his salvation, his endless sleep
this longest goodnight
Talking to himself, his secret kept hidden, always…
His shame in acknowledging his thoughts and desire makes him
feel weak and a failure to be thinking this way.
The excruciating humility of knowing you will succumb
Alone, and secretively, and convincing himself that
he is a burden, best gone, best forgotten,
knowing though, he will not live to regret his choice.
No one to tell him how loved he might be, how missed he would be,
how much happier he could be,
because no one knows his guilty secret..
One he will take with him,
to the grave.

 
Poems written in the first or third person  not necessarily relating to the author.