any criticism on this poem would be greaaatly appreciated!
His pen.
the pen he clenched
in his shaking hand,
anxiously scribbling "it's never worth it"
the pen feet away
watching
as he ended his life.
an accomplice to my friend's suicide,
I hate this pen.
His gun.
the gun he held in his trembling hands,
complying with a demand that would be his last.
fire.
an accomplice to my friend's suicide,
I hate this gun.
My friend.
the friend whose last minutes of life
were spent in sadness.
because of two elements so blinding,
he couldn't realize how missed he'd be.
all it took was one simple
yet irreparable mistake.
all contributing to my friend's suicide,
I miss this friend.
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