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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Psychology · #1680404
Poem about suicide
... ..- .. -.-. .. -.. .

Talking through signs
You told us about life:
Discomfort, sadness… FAILURE!

Now you’ve left us,
One scar that may heal,
But will leave a mark.

Birds are like you,
They migrate
To warmer temperatures,
And leave cold behind.

We are like bears,
That sleep during the cold,
And then wake up,
To find that you are nowhere.

It’s true,
Sleep is just a cousin of death.

Seems like we never woke up,
Dead, but still breathing,
A breath that suffocates,
That tastes like dead,
That blinded our spirits,
And brought you to the final act
In this silly play.

Why didn’t you continue to
Run,
Even when your feet touched
No ground?

Fear, may it be?
…Of what?
…Of feeling your footsteps
Make no one tremble in awe,
Instead inspiring courage on those
That planted cowardice in your heart?

We’ve all walked down that lane,
Trembling as hurricanes try to rip us
Apart,
And tidal waves fed with anger
Crash with our exposed faces,
But if we stand like a stone
No wind can erode our will,
No perversion can taint our souls.

Still you let them
Harvest their crops:
Sorrow!

You imbecile,
Ignorance’s plague.
You do not know what
Cards you have laid down the table.

That’s a one-way trip,
A really long walk down the lane of
Death.

Missing,
Missing,
Missing,
You.
This scar still bleeds.
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