I don’t understand it
You must not tell people you’re suicidal
You may disturb or upset them
Silent to the grave
Carrying your life in your hands
Hush now not a whisper
No one needs to know
And that is why people kill themselves
Truly you ask for the silent to cover up their need for help in order to protect the masses from
Discomfort
Not death, not self harm, not jumping off a cliff.
You’re making people uncomfortable so stop
This closed mind, closed eyes, closed heart, closed hand
Around the throat of the dying, hoping they will cease the words
I want to be dead
And you tell them
Keep it to yourself
Or you ignore them like you ignore bad behaviour from a dog
And I know that every human is as self centred as the next because all they ever experience is themselves,
But to say the life of another should be forfeited simply because you don’t feel comfortable hearing about it
So when the starving approach do you scuttle away thinking
Oh woe is me I’m
So uncomfortable
And the masses they gave silence to those dying of silence
And then were confused when the silent faded away into nothing
Sometimes I think
I wish I had died because they all deserve to have to deal with my suicide in their faces and unignorable
Because I kept telling them plain as day that I was trying to kill myself and they
They
But I’m the fool
I’m the one who shouldn’t make people uncomfortable with my suicidal thoughts
Because I’m the fool who never succeeded at it
And why
Is suicide a joke until someone succeeds?
I may as well be a laughing stalk because I know if anyone saw this they would simply say
A juvenile call for help
A whiny bitch
But if I succeeded I would be
Loved by all (a lie)
Missed (a lie)
And
If only there had been a sign
Besides the neon one which reads
If you leave me alone for too long I will die
That they scoff at as they walk on by
I wish I had succeeded
So that they could choke on their own air
Because I’m serious but it’s a joke until I succeed.
And I keep saying
I need somebody to talk to
And they keep replying
Well I don’t want to talk to you
You make me uncomfortable by being suicidal
And what is to be said by the person alone in a tiny room waiting for
The miracle that will make this
I need someone
But I’m unwanted
Because I need someone
Stuck in a whirlpool
Yanked into the undertow
It’ll be a joke somehow
I’ll die from being hit from a car or cancer or falling buildings
And it will be so sad
But no one will know I begged for it the night before
And no one will hear my cries
No one will know where the heart lies
Because if he knows he doesn’t care
And if he doesn’t I don’t believe he would
Because I don’t believe in good people anymore
A good person, perhaps.
But certainly not people.
It all just seems like
Look at me I’m so charitable
Which isn’t the point
Kind hearts don’t make a new story
Or tell suicidal people to shut up with their silence.
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