I sit alone in the at night in my room
A small lamp putting away the black gloom
Keeping me protected from the dark things I'm going to write
Helping me gain a little ground in this fight
With a deep breath, and a slow exhale
I pick up this pencil, and begin to tell my tale.
And so I start: Dear Ms. Suicide
Death is something that won't hide.
I know it hurts.. when we lose those we love
We can only hope they are watching from above
But to think of death, that is not a sin
To think of something that we all will face in the end
Death is something we can't at all avoid
Dropping out of existence, entering the void
I stop writing, thinking of what else to say
Thinking back on my own life, on each and every day
On times when I myself have been depressed
Or sat back, thinking the I am the only one the gets messed
with Every day by people who are just asinine
Bullies who think it is funny to destroy what is mine
I put down my pen, and lean back and look.
Wanting to cross out all that I had booked
All that I had put to paper and wrought.
But for some reason I turned down that little thought.
I continued again, scribbling really
Dear Ms. Suicide... I write down swiftly..
But pause again. Who am I to say a word
My own life, makes my own vision blurred
But I am not writing something at all damning
No... That is something that I would never be caught doing
TO hate someone just for what they write
Why.. that doesn't at all seem right.
We are each entitled to our own opinion
Whether right or wrong, or laced with lies and sin
The only thing I see with the writing today
Is when people attack others with what they say
There is no need to tear down your fellow friend
To attack and abuse with everything you send
Why would you want to do that, attack them so rude
Then wonder why they have such a bad attitude.
I look down at my notebook, once more in the light
And wonder again, if what I am doing is right
I pick up my pen, and start again slowly
Trying my best to write it all down steady
Dear Miss suicide.
The fact is, its ok if you cried.
The fact is, its alright if you think about dying
Just don't go through with it, please' I'm writing.
'Miss Suicide, there are people that still need you
People who think of you, out of the blue.
I may not be one of them, since I don't know you
But just the same, I need you too.'
My pen falters for the briefest of moments
And I read that line again, and I wince,
'I read your poems, and though I'm not suicidal
I get the message, without a second recital
I understand the pain that people go through each day
And I understand the hate you face with each way
you post your new stories, but what else can I say
With each hate, think of a sun ray.
It is so far away, not caring what we say or do
But it warms me... and it warms you too
Whether you are mad or sad, giddy or filled with hate
No matter the cause the sun warms without being late.'
I sign it and seal it, not sure if I missed anything
Wondering if I did more good, or more hurting.
If I should have just ignored all those things that I wanted to say
If I should have just not written anything at all today
I place a stamp, and send it in the mail.
Its out of my hands now, so I go to sleep without fail.
Tomorrow is a new day, a new sight, a new beginning
Take from it what you will, but remember this sinning
If you end it all, that is it, its all
To end it is to take that final fall
No more beginning sadness, but no more laughter as well
You are forever locked in your own little hell
It is with this I drifted into the deepest of sleep
As this last thought into my mind begins to creep
If you are dead, all those that will mourn you.
But even worse, you won't hear i love you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.