Substance Suicide Poem by Timothy Long

The help is a lie,
A slow death by suicide,
Destroying your mind for a moment of peace,
What a body layed to waste,
There is no escape,
How did it come to this?
All the pain does is get suppressed,
A cracking numb shell left deserted,
Now going no where's fast,
When younger it was quite the blast,
Whether it be drink or smoke,
Life is one big joke,
Wild are the dreams,
Sore is the hopeless pride,
Bask in dreams of suicide,
They won't care,
Not for real,
How does it feel?
If your heart is cool,
And the substance has you high in the head,
Just think,
How lucky are the dead?
What a slice of life,
Birth on one side,
Death for the other,
Alone one could find,
The note left behind,
Is there still time to change?
The more you age,
The more one dies inside,
What a worthless suicide,
The thought still remains,
Should one blow out their brain?
Feeling no pleasure in what others indulge in,
Living becomes a greedy ambition,
Suffering in an atmosphere of sorrows,
Don't try to hide being crippled inside,
What beauty is sadness?
No relief from the hate,
There is no honor in suffering,
Only through great cruelness is the other side attainable,
May be its only true as long as others remain to agree with it,
So many more desires than possibilities,
Hurting what's on the outside to kill what remains of the inside,
If you can't live for yourself,
A blur of nothingness takes over,
Shame of thee become a cutting tree,
Each strike to feel for a time,
The boredom after words is subline,
The toll trying to find happiness,
Takes on a mental break,
Keep drinking,
Keep smoking,
Do another cut,
Live for what you can,
Another day will come,
Die or live,
It's all the same,
Time to smile again,
Substance suicide will do,
Slowly killing you,
More life it can give,
In the end,
All you can do is forgive!