The Suicide Of My Young Friend Poem by John Lyday

Jack Acosta died that day.
He swung slow with a gentle sway.
Around his neck was a bathrobe cord
tied around a basement board.

He asked his mom if he could go to the lake.
She couldn't give him an even break.
She could not allow him to hurt a hair.
His brother sat in an easy chair.

See Jack's brother was strong yet slim.
He played a sport that he couldn't win.
He couldn't move and he never spoke,
side effects of the neck they broke.

Jack Acosta was small and shy.
Neither were good reasons to die.
The day before, in math, he made
the highest score in the seventh grade.

His mom guarded him against life's risk.
She smothered him; it made him sick.
Jack Acosta didn't make a sound
when his neighbor cut him down.

12/04/09