GimmyDiamond
02-22-2007, 10:53 PM
Do not be alarmed!!! These poems are not pleas for help!!!
I’ve been writing these poems since I did a research project on teen suicide . . . I couldn’t believe it when I read things like It’s the second leading cause of death in youth aged 10-24 in Canada and the third leading cause in the States, claiming almost 2000 teens. It never really occurred to me to think about this problem, that it even was a problem but you can’t deny that suicide rates tripling in the last half century among people aged 15-24, is a problem, a serious and heartbreaking problem. For every completed youth suicide, there are nearly 400 attempts. If that's not a reason for everyone to do what they can to help, I don't know what is.
While suicide is not something to be glorified, and I am not attempting to do so with these poems, it is imperative that people talk about it. Being able to talk about feelings of suicide could mean the difference between life and death for some. We need to dispel the myth that talking about suicide promotes it. These poems were I guess more of a voice for the now voiceless and if it can make someone who is thinking of killing themselves see they aren’t alone in how they feel, that someone else has been where they are and that someone can and is waiting to understand is why I write them.
IF YOU ARE DEALING WITH FEELINGS OF SUICIDE OR HURTING YOURSELF IT IS IMPORTANT YOU GET HELP NOW!!!! CALL 911, CALL A FRIEND, CALL YOUR PASTOR, CALL A FAMILY MEMEBER, CALL A HOTLINE, TALK TO SOMEONE!!!!!
__________________________________________________ _______________
My suicide note
Quickly written
Brutally honest
Six pages long
In agonizing detail I described
My torment
I laid blame where blame was due,
Even where it was not.
I touched upon my broken heart,
My quickly fleeting hope for myself,
I skipped no lines, nor backsides of pages,
I wrote in the margins, my words ran round
The hole punches
By the time I’d finished rereading,
Making sure the truth was known, my eyes had dried
The page edges bumpy and the words smeared
From my sweaty palms
I ripped it up, burnt it
Then flushed it down the toilet,
I broke the pen
The ink stained my hand and carpet.
My carpet, brand new . . .
I smudged the ink as much
As possible, pushed it to the floor
I killed it.
I left the room, ignored the
Pictures of the ‘perfect’ family,
All smiling the same lie
Blocked out the sound of my dog
As I shoot down the slick road
I feel my pulse competing with the car
My blood bubbles and boils, tickles my skin
I smile
My suicide note that was never seen,
Never known, my suicide note
Never guessed in the wreckage of
My brand new car.
I’ve been writing these poems since I did a research project on teen suicide . . . I couldn’t believe it when I read things like It’s the second leading cause of death in youth aged 10-24 in Canada and the third leading cause in the States, claiming almost 2000 teens. It never really occurred to me to think about this problem, that it even was a problem but you can’t deny that suicide rates tripling in the last half century among people aged 15-24, is a problem, a serious and heartbreaking problem. For every completed youth suicide, there are nearly 400 attempts. If that's not a reason for everyone to do what they can to help, I don't know what is.
While suicide is not something to be glorified, and I am not attempting to do so with these poems, it is imperative that people talk about it. Being able to talk about feelings of suicide could mean the difference between life and death for some. We need to dispel the myth that talking about suicide promotes it. These poems were I guess more of a voice for the now voiceless and if it can make someone who is thinking of killing themselves see they aren’t alone in how they feel, that someone else has been where they are and that someone can and is waiting to understand is why I write them.
IF YOU ARE DEALING WITH FEELINGS OF SUICIDE OR HURTING YOURSELF IT IS IMPORTANT YOU GET HELP NOW!!!! CALL 911, CALL A FRIEND, CALL YOUR PASTOR, CALL A FAMILY MEMEBER, CALL A HOTLINE, TALK TO SOMEONE!!!!!
__________________________________________________ _______________
My suicide note
Quickly written
Brutally honest
Six pages long
In agonizing detail I described
My torment
I laid blame where blame was due,
Even where it was not.
I touched upon my broken heart,
My quickly fleeting hope for myself,
I skipped no lines, nor backsides of pages,
I wrote in the margins, my words ran round
The hole punches
By the time I’d finished rereading,
Making sure the truth was known, my eyes had dried
The page edges bumpy and the words smeared
From my sweaty palms
I ripped it up, burnt it
Then flushed it down the toilet,
I broke the pen
The ink stained my hand and carpet.
My carpet, brand new . . .
I smudged the ink as much
As possible, pushed it to the floor
I killed it.
I left the room, ignored the
Pictures of the ‘perfect’ family,
All smiling the same lie
Blocked out the sound of my dog
As I shoot down the slick road
I feel my pulse competing with the car
My blood bubbles and boils, tickles my skin
I smile
My suicide note that was never seen,
Never known, my suicide note
Never guessed in the wreckage of
My brand new car.