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December 2014



I sit parallel to the liquid I must ingest to die.
My head lies slant to the horizontal.
The executioner has already begun sharpening the blade for the guillotine.
He tests its efficiency in a series of vertical glides.
Up, down, up, down, the blades go.
My sight grows dim as the flickering lights do a lot of injustice to my eyes.
I can hear myself think.
I can hear my heart beat to an inconsistent tune.
My heart beats with stress.
My emotions are strong enough to kill me.
I muster the strength to raise a pen knife that lay carelessly on the floor to slit my left wrist.
Blood sprouts up like a fountain and stains my soiled shirt.
(My own life, wasting.)
I watch the very essence of my existence waste away, trickling down my arms.
I might as well drink from my own life.
I will drain myself.
Lifting up my wrist, I bend my head closer to the gaping wound.
The warm pulsating liquid runs down my throat and it tastes like LIFE.
I swallow in greed-filled gulps.
I hear the blade file fall from the executioner’s hand as it hits the bare floor.
Immediately, he lets go of the cord that held the guillotine.
A cold hard metal slashes my face into two unequally symmetrical parts.
Before I died, I heard myself mumble these words:
“I…. was….. innocent.”
(The Greatest Graduation Ceremony Is Death.)
– JasmineTheJewel
(December 15th 2014).

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