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Literature Text
Can I tell you how I died?
Why it rhymes with suicide.
Not because, I fell ill.
Not because, I swallowed pills.
Soon you'll see why I lie still.
Not because, I have drowned.
Not because of, Russian Roulette's
last round.
Deaf words of mine,
preach no sound.
Not because, the fault of life
Not because, the sharpened knife.
Real reason, why, tears went dry.
Not because, I jumped to fall.
Not because, this body I mauled.
The more I remember,
the harder too recall.
The true answer is i'm,
alive.
But to me,
the meaning of suicide:
Is
that
you
left
me
dead
inside.
Why it rhymes with suicide.
Not because, I fell ill.
Not because, I swallowed pills.
Soon you'll see why I lie still.
Not because, I have drowned.
Not because of, Russian Roulette's
last round.
Deaf words of mine,
preach no sound.
Not because, the fault of life
Not because, the sharpened knife.
Real reason, why, tears went dry.
Not because, I jumped to fall.
Not because, this body I mauled.
The more I remember,
the harder too recall.
The true answer is i'm,
alive.
But to me,
the meaning of suicide:
Is
that
you
left
me
dead
inside.
Literature
R.I.P.
Did anyone notice that she winced if you raised your arm?
Did anyone notice that her eyes were wide with alarm?
Did anyone notice that she never looked you in the eye?
Did anyone notice that her voice was but a sigh?
Did anyone notice that her skin was always bruised?
Did anyone question whether she might be abused?
Did anyone question why she walked in obvious fear?
Did anyone question why one day she did not appear?
Did anyone recognize her face on the six-o’clock news?
Did anyone see her remains pulled from the river refuse?
Did anyone care that this quiet girl no longer exists?
No. No one did. And she will never even be missed.
R.I
Literature
Hello Darling.
Hello darling.
I see you're hiding behind long sleeves.
I can see you trying to cover up your "ugly side" with gemstones and lace, with pretty clothes and make up.
But, hello darling.
You can show me.
Hello dear.
I see you're pushing away your dinner.
I can see you thrusting fingers down your throat into the sink, trying to hide your secret with laughter and smiles.
But, hello dear.
You can show me.
Hello honey.
I see you're hiding behind these precious things that the others care so much about.
I see you're upset with who you are, in fear that who you are might upset others.
I see you're broken, and I see, you're outspoken. You're lost a
Literature
Die
Die:
Such a simple word, spewed without thought.
"I wish you'd die, I wish you'd be killed."
But what if we actually gave meaning to those words?
Can you understand the emotion, the magnitude, the weight,
Of actually seeing the life of an individual depart?
Can you look them in the eyes, as they bleed into your hands;
Observing their final moments, as the light fades from their eyes?
Or are you simply a soft-hearted coward,
Sitting fat behind a computer, wishing death upon others?
To say that one is deserving of death,
Suggests that you are ready to kill.
And if indeed you are ready to kill,
Then you too must be prepared to die.
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This has no relevance to my feelings, it was just a poem that flowed through my mind in the shower so I decided to write it :/
© 2013 - 2024 Ellen-Souler
Comments53
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Overall
Vision
Originality Technique ImpactThe thing about this poem is that it gives people who has never dealt with suicidal thoughts in person and just brush it off, understands that you don't always show what you feel inside.
And that is truly a good thing.
I really enjoyed the way you showcased suicide.
It seems to me that you showcased suicide as not caring what others think about how you are right now as a person. That the more alive you are, the more dead you are, and that is truly, beautiful.
So let me tell you something people, suicide is not a laughing matter, let that sink in.
Beautiful.