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The Well of Serenity

I hear no voices within my head.

They’re soft whispers with words of dread.

So soft, so soft, the whispers sound,

with the kindest serenity I have found.

But I refuse, I refuse, to let them say

things that could take me away.

I’m all I have. I’m all that’s dear.

I have my friends. I have no fear.

The whispers beckon me to end this life.

They say with a gun or the edge of a knife.

They tempt and confuse my mind at times,

with serene whispers sweet as wine.

They try to drunken me with words hope,

for a new life at the end of a rope.

Yes, yes, they’ve tried it all,

but I know I will not fall.

God has nothing to do with why I stay.

Suicide just isn’t the game to play.

I seek not Heaven, nor fear no Hell.

I choose to dig my own sweet well.

And when I reach the water sweet,

the beckoning whispers I’ll defeat.

I’ll lavish in my thirsted hope

and hang my bucket upon their rope
Stanley Victor Paskavich.

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