Being Brave

I don't usually post poetry and I don't want this to become some teenage angst-like blog, but this time, I couldn't help myself:

Please stab me in the heart to keep me from completely falling apart
I can't take this life anymore; my wounds are bruised and hurt, I am too sore
My arteries crumble; they fall to pieces
I'm alone in my mind, going crazy believing
That maybe things will change, they won't stay the same
But I can't point fingers – I'm only to blame

It's been a long time coming
A long, long time
That the dark parts would fall
Into the light
It's an abysmal uncovering,
An unwanted side
To see the dark rear its ugly head
The one that I call suicide.

People say it's cowardice;
I think it's brave
To jump into the dark –
To dig your own grave
People say your hurt others
But what about yourself?
How can you continue appeasing others
When you can't please yourself?

I'm tired of living
And trying to meet expectations
I'm constantly disappointing
And delaying gratification
So I'll quit while I'm ahead
And stop upsetting
I'm tired of worrying
And tired of fretting

I've tried to die many times
All unsuccessfully
But this time I'll plan it out
Oh so carefully
I'll purchase a gun
Without my husband's consent
And once I've gone and pulled the trigger
He'll only have me to resent

Suicide is a selfish act,
That's what people say
I wouldn't disagree or
Argue it any other way
But maybe it's about time I was selfish
Did something for myself for a change
Instead of harboring anger, angst
And pity toward myself always

I won't worry about work,
Plays or fame
I won't worry about family,
Friends or playing games
I'll simply be dead,
Rotting in my grave
Suicide isn't cowardice –
It's simply being brave

I've finally come to admit
I can't handle what I can't face
And even though I'm not God
I think this world isn't my place
I'd rather be unconscious
Unable to breathe
Trapped in my own building
Collapsing down on me

It's been a long time coming
A long, long time
To see the dark rear its ugly head
The part that I call suicide
I have much to say
And there's much I haven't done
But what does it matter
When death's got all the fun?

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1 Comment

  1. April 8, 2011 at 5:43 am

    Very well written. Hope you come to post again on this blog. It’s been a great resource.

    Cheers,
    David
    http://www.allthingsdepression.com


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