From A Suicidal Teen

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Disclaimer: I should probably warn you that the content of the following poem is slightly triggering so if you suffer from depression or anything of the sort please skip this poem or otherwise read it with someone you trust.

 

Movements quick and precise,

I glide towards the kitchen door.

Rip it open, step inside,

There is only one end in sight.

I yank open the kitchen draw,

Rummaging frantically through its contents

“don’t!”

A far away voice whispers in my ears,

And I simply just ignore.

At last my eyes settle.

My hands carefully extract the precious metal,

A ghost of smile appears on my lips.

Leap and bound to the bathroom door,

I enter with a ballerina’s grace.

I tear open the medicine cabinet with Herculean force,

Amoxicillin, Cyclosporine, Diclofenac,

The names flash across my eyes,

I don’t really care,

I just grab it all,

“don’t”

A ghost of a whisper flitters past my ears,

Fainter than before,

Again, I ignore.

I walk into my room,

I stare, straight into my mirror,

Right at my reflection.

Something is amiss,

That is too be expected.

My face is so foreign to me,

My features are deformed,

Imperfect, unlovable.

I sit cross-legged on the floor,

Laying each instrument out before me.

Everything I ever learnt in debate comes back to me,

I run analysis and comparatives on each one,

Trying to see what would systemically cause the least painful.

“don’t”

This time it hardly registers,

The futile attempt at self-preservation,

Drowned out by the voices of my oppressors,

“Worthless, Nothing, Faggot,

Strange, idiot, stupid fool.”

Insults swim laps in my mind,

Serving as kindling to the flame,

Merely egging me on.

As the river of tears stream down my face.

I have nothing left to live for.

So, the only option left,

Die!   

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