Suicide Note... Poem by Mohit Sharma

Neither afraid of being overlooked, nor timid in his ways,
Amid a desperate wilderness of words, his untamed imagination strayed.

He excelled in literature, though few cared to discern,
And before he could outgrow their prejudice, his thoughts began to burn.

He cared little for his studies, nor could he bear their strain;
Whenever his grades fell short, he sought refuge in his literary domain.

Yet the world around him urged him to swim against his natural stream,
And the unseen weight of competition slowly shattered his youthful dream.

His tattered notebook was his sanctuary; nothing else could truly thrill,
For he dreamed of becoming a poet, armed with uncommon and unorthodox skill.

Part of the world was deaf, and part of it was blind,
Neither hearing the music of his words nor seeking the treasures they might find.

Still, he sailed his literary ocean, driven by imagination's oar,
Though criticism followed relentlessly, leaving him isolated upon the shore.

At times he felt adrift, but never truly defeated;
His stubborn soul stood exposed, vulnerable and untreated.

The distance he was asked to bridge seemed narrow in others' eyes,
Yet to him it meant abandoning the self where his deepest essence lies.

The pressure to prove himself tightened around his weary mind,
But somehow he persuaded himself to leave no cherished thought behind.

And so, one day, he resolved to gather them upon a spotless page,
Yet the haunting fear of failure imprisoned his voice within its cage.

That evening stood unnaturally silent, untouched by even the gentlest breeze,
His face unnervingly calm, as though preparing itself to freeze.

"Leave me alone..."

were the final words he managed to write,
Upon the half-torn last page of his poetry notebook that night—

A silent suicide note.