Silent Suicide

Silent Suicide

Across the field, in the cold night air
I saw a dark shape, a man standing there

With his eyes to the ground and his face to the sky
The lonely wind carried me his scared, chilling cry

As the moon glinted off tears, alive yet so rare
He held the revolver high as the wind whipped at his hair

Blood arced through space, falling as he died
I was the only witness to his silent suicide.