I sit alone in my room
It was as dark as a tomb.
I listen to the radio blare
While rocking in my chair
I thought about my life
As my hand tightens round the knife
I stare into space
As the tears run down my face.
The knife seems to be my only friend
As i think about this being the end
I place the blade upon my wrist
Tightly i ball my hand into a fist.
Then i heard a voice
It said i had a choice.
Could i live another day
Or throw my life away.
Think about others in your life it said
They would miss you if your dead.
I some how know the voice was right
I couldn't give up without a fight.
I wiped away my tears as i stood up
Telling myself i can't give up
Then i remembered what this person had said
Her voice rang through my head
Nothing is worth throwing your life away
Because in the end your be ok.
So if it wasn't for the voice
Telling me i had a choice
I probably wouldn't be here today
Lets just hope that i will be ok
and her voice doestn't fade away.
The voice of reason, the voice of hope there to guide us when needed the most. It is our strenght and our will to fight another day. I follwed your words closely, nicely put. Patricia
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love your courage to voice the struggle that alot of go through on a daily basis.