If I had to choose
I'd rather sleep
To swing from a noose

The sin of Lust
love me- you all
if you must

The sin of Pride
and I am all
but sometimes
I wish I was
small
enough
to hide
in your palm

The sin of Envy
not to
Not to do myself harm
I wish I was
present tense
present in my absence
to drown
my past

Small enough
O minuscule ridicule
me
Could I choose
shifting, hanging
smothered by the noose
but just to the point
of the exact amount
of air to abuse
and my mouth
in last breath
my hands
are letting me go
of my rope,
of my past,
of my death.