Behind the attic's door

Once again I hear it's call.
The dark whisper behind the attic's door.
I've heard it before.
It's going to make me fall.

Since the day I moved here
it has hanged there,
the robe awaiting me
to fulfil my dreams.

The unspoken promise of suicide
has always temptated my mind.
As comes the day when I die
by my own hand shall I take my life.

One day the pressure shall overcome.
When goals are reached, when all is done.
Thought some would say my life just begun
one knows when one's should be gone.

Once again I must return
to attic to suppress this burn
in me and climb on the chair,
kick it off and leave hanging there.

Behind the attic's door!