The gun in my hand
is to help understand
how I'm to cope
at the end of my rope
with no hope
only dope left
and bereft
of anything you
held for me.
You see,
I cannot live life
on the edge of this knife
so the .22 on my bed
aimed at my head
last words are said
and now I am dead.
...
My words live on
from beyond to
the surreal
enough to feel
cold as steel.
Nothing is real.
Author notes
This is my disclaimer: I am in no way whatsoever suicidal, just extremely depressed. Under no circumstances should anyone reading this feel it necessary for me to seek professional help and they should definitely say anything. My life, my business.
Hope you like the poem.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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i find it so easy for me to write suicidal poems. i find them so interesting how people express their views on suicide. i loved the rawness of this because i struggle with this demon everyday. loved how you expressed it. this was touchin to my soul.
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Great job.
Miss you
Love you
See you
soon? -
OMG... wow. I am breathless. This write sent chills up my spine, but a good chill, the kind you get after you just read an amazing write...
X♥X
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