Sense Sonnet - Acher

 Shameful Filth

Through the tall bull rushes I row,

Snapping the stubborn with the oar.

Then across the dark lake I go,

Drenched sopping wet from rains that pour.

All alone with myself am I,

On a final journey to take,

In time and place of choice to die,

My birthday on my favorite lake.

I can no longer bear the pain

That my bad habits made me bear.

Maybe lake water and the rain

Will cleanse the filth inside me there.

Regrets for life I might have missed,

With rusty blade I cut my wrist.