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...