The Second Name Written In Red: Dead. Poem by Louisa Rogers

Suicide.
You hear about it on the news, in the newspapers.
The reasons always either bullying or just pure loneliness.
Never a broken heart.

I'd never heard of suicide from a broken heart.
Or, at least, a want for it.
Until today.

He was online on a poetry website.
I see who's online sometimes to read their poetry.
His name caught my eye.
The second name written in red: Dead.

Curiousity filled me so I clicked on it.
Male: 18
I followed the link to read poems he's written.
Looked at his bio first to know his background.

'I make shitty promises.' was the first line.
'Anyway: Peace, Love and Empathy' was the last.
In the middle it went from 'I've lost the second love of my life'
to 'I don't want to be saved.'

I went on to read his poems; 59 in total.
First one published on November 8th 2009.
You think that date has a significance?
Maybe not.

The names of the poems start to scare me as I read further down page 1 of 3.
'When Suicide was Just a Joke', 'A Short Story about Killing Myself' Pt.1 and 2 and '18 (A Final Tribute) '.
That was the number before wasn't it?
18?

I read some.
They scare me.
But I'm scared for the person that wants to die, not for myself.
I want to help; but I'm only a stranger to him.

I also felt sorrow and pain, yet love and power.
Each poem had such power, I felt an equal level of strength and weakness.

To feel such power yourself is one thing.
But to put it into words that make other people feel it too?
It's just; I don't know. I have no words for it.
Extraordinary; maybe.

He has a broken heart; he wants to die, so he says in his poems.
And yet he keeps writing, keeps publishing new ones.
Songs too actually, he writes songs.
About the same thing though.

What I love about poetry is that people get to express what they feel.
And he does that so well he's gotten comments on it.
'This is really good, I like the way you express yourself' was one.
Though another read 'Please tell me what's going on? '!

To be fair, it's no one's business but his.
But they see, as I do, no writer nor poet can write such raw emotion without having felt it.
No writer's that good; even him.

But if you're reading this and hopefully you are,
Please concentrate on this next part; it means the most by far.

I have said this in the letter I wrote you but it needs to be said again.
And I don't think I speak for myself when I say it; please change your pen.
You are an amazing writer and/or poet; whichever you class yourself as.
And I'm sure if Yoda read your words he'd say 'something about him he has.'
For the sake of me and the rest of your fans,
Please put down that 45 that you hold in your hands.
It will bring no good, just sorrow and pain,
To those who've loved you along life's crazy lane.
The longer you write about suicide, the way you're feeling and life being a dick,
The more you'll feel it, the pain, the sorrow so maybe find a new topic?
That last one had bad rhythm and rhyme I know,
But right now I can't figure out how else to let my feelings show.

I'm not sorry to say, this has to be said again:
Please Chris; just change your pen.

Written 08-01-11