In Suicide, There Is No Freedom Poem by Cynthia Buhain-baello

In suicide, there is no freedom
More questions left than there are answers
Deep regrets they soon will come
With grief, and tears, and doubting prayers.

There is an endless asking of 'Why? '
And a gnawing ache for a last embrace
Facing a reality - it's not time to die
But a silenced voice, gone without a trace.

The pain Suicide leaves is never gone
There is never relief, nor comfort, nor ease
Just the emptiness of a lost loved one
And then the chasing of that elusive Peace