Scissors
Scissors and knives look me in the eyes like a tiger stalks its prey.
I get the urge to kill like the drinks that fill me up at night.
And sometimes if it's bad, I'll be more mad at myself than anyone else.
I remember one time when I spilled the wine and I threw the glass at the door.
I scared my wife then pulled out a knife as I tackled her to the floor.
She screamed and cried until the knife was gone and her scissors were in her hand.
I will never know what was said, I was out of my head and my wife was scared to death.
Rehab, therapy - nothing helped, so I jumped off a bridge and held my breath.
I fell through the air as the wind slapped my face.
Before I hit the ground, I heard a sound of a snip.
It made me open my eyes;
I had died in a way I won't ever forget:
In the arms of my wife, I feel myself fall softly through a cloud;
I find it odd that she's pulling me down;
I will never live my life again...
Not ever, not now...