At the end of the dock,

Haunts frolic in the seaweed,

Egging and urging another depressed soul

To join them

In a world without torment.

At the end of the dock,

A spirit lurks.

A man who took his life last year,

Sits right here.

He still looks like a man,

Barely. He decays slowly.

At the end of the dock,

Demons chant your woes and sorrows,

They list reasons why

You should jump,

And cheer as the darklings push you in

And devour your depressed flesh.

At the end of the dock,

Souls are trapped

In the decisions

That their bodies made.

They regret their jump,

They wish for a return.

At the end of the dock,

You'll find an escape.

The torments of this world

Will forget you,

As your loved ones mourn.

At the end of the dock,

You'll be rewarded

With the woes and sorrows

Of those who jumped before and after.

At the end of the dock,

You'll come to love the
Pain and anguish

Of all the drowned, hopeless souls.

At the end of the dock,

You'll be given a choice

Between improvement of your life

And chances to forgive and be forgiven,

Or agonied oblivion without return.

The decision is yours.

If you choose to leap,

You shall surely be damned to the weak.

At the end of the dock,

You'll meet a painful end,

That never stops.

Your being will be consumed

By entropy as

Your soul stays aware.

Your loved ones will become as broken

As your corpse body.

Your friends will become as broken

As your judgment when you jumped.

Your future dies with you.