I can just about picture you all sat there.
My beloved family and freinds.
Within the wake of my suicide.
Not relly knowing way.
Trying to comprehend why.
It was noones fualt.
There was nothing that could of been done.
It was choice to make.
It wasnt one I really wanted to do,
But it was my only way.
Please try not too be angry.
Move on with your lives.
You couldnt of saved me in the end.
It was far to late.
My demons took ahold of my life.
Dragging me down.
Controlling my life.
Friends and family I'm so sorry.
Sorry for what I've done.
Sorry for what I'm putting you through.
I'll allways love you.
The sentiment is understood and shoots right through (all of) your work. These are thoughts occurs to many of us and so strike a chord, and this much in itself makes for a good piece. But suicide isn't something to be done for effect. Those friends and family to whom you would apologise are there to talk to.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Amy, I agree with Tara, there is always someone to talk to. Please do this, talk to someone who will listen. Love, Fran xx