My Suicide Note By Bo-Edward Lawrence Poem by Bo Edward Lawrence

You know I never thought I would be alive long enough to write this poem.
Witnessing God in my dreams, talking to me I didn't want to wake up.
I was having a much better time asleep.
As sad as that sounds.
It was almost like a reverse nightmare,
Usually when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved.
I woke up into a nightmare.
I woke up to the sounds of my knuckles knocking on the devils gate.
I am not his advocate...
God forgive me for my sins.
My angel wings have been burned off my aching skeleton.
The pain I feel is more traumatizing and genuine as if I was a war veteran.
Sleep is the cousin of death and suicide is its closest relative.

This cold barrel to my dome, never made me afraid but for some reason I feel like I'm going home.
God, I'm coming home.
They say every second, minute, and hour of the day you write your future, your story.
There were many times I wished I could tear out some of the pages, but instead I always feel like burning the entire book.
It's all bad!
The entire world is against me.
Can someone..
Tell my mother that she is the kindest angel I have ever known
And my father, thank you for teaching me how to be a man.
Tell them I'm sorry that this life lesson, doesn't feel like a blessing, but instead like a curse.
Tell the reporters that I was never into drugs or a criminal,
Just make sure they don't sell me to the world as a bad person.

I raise home to my head and put it next to my temple
And I reflect....

The easiest thing in life is to quit.
The hardest thing in life is to live.
Just to know that all my pain, all my hurt, can end with a pull of a trigger..
I want my death to be beautiful, I want my death to be meaningful. Would it be considered beautiful if I scattered my brains on this windshield as my old thoughts create a Picasso.
I don't want to be the man that nobody knows until he commits suicide, and then everyone had a class with him.
Sometimes home isn't the answer, sometimes running away isn't the right thing to do.
I want to be known as the one who stared down the barrel of a gun and found enough beauty to look away.
And live...