Suicide poem

When you want to kill yourself

You think of all of the possible tears that could be shead

And come to the realization that everyone would eventually be ok

The world would not stop , no apocalyptic event would cease the earth you would just be dead

While washing the dishes you pause when you come to the knifes

You hold one against your wrist just to see how it feels

After taking a shower , you stare at yourself in the mirror for 30 mins to try and see if hope somehow shows on your bare skin

But it doesn't so you get back in the shower to try and wash away the sins you missed in the last visit to church

While at school you smile , and laugh , and pray that no one sees the despair in your eyes

Or the blood , that you imagine Poor's from your wrist when you daydream about how much red blood can do

But to you your blood is doing no justice to this world. Working to keep you alive

You want to set it free


Mama says that suicide sends you to hell

To a place where gays and the non-believers go

Mama says God Is watching over me

Says he loves me , like a family or something

But I don't understand how you can watch your child want to die

How you could listen to her pray that you  snatch her body and slap her down on dense concrete to silence her forevermore

Just so that she doesn't have to do the dirty work herself

My best friend says to leave suicide to the white boys who get bullied

Take a hit of this blunt and she bets I won't want to talk about it anymore

Or drink whatever the hell is in this cup because after that you'll be fine

But doesn't she know that the black girls get depressed

A type of melancholy that no blunt or mystery mix can cure

See there's no bully like your own mind

Picking fights with your mood

And the only way to win is to become extinct

When you want to kill yourself , every face you see becomes an internal conversation on rather or not they would notice you were dead

Even though I am already

I see the potential in nothing

This world becomes a snow globe

With the singular flakes being everyone else and you being the idol figurine in the middle of the sphere


Drowning in a pool of JUST DO IT

So you grab the knife and you smuggle it into the place where you plan to meet your demise

And as soon as you grow the balls to drag the handle

I hear a knock on the door


This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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