“Suicide is Dead”
The following poem, “Suicide is Dead,” is not a suicide letter. It was written in a motivational manner. I had some tough times in my life and eventually I received the help I needed. I wrote this poem to encourage anybody in the same position to seek help, to not become another statistic. To reach National Hopeline Network’s suicide prevention hotline, call 1-800-784-2433.
Suicide is Dead
I put a gun to my head
Thoughts of life, a piece of lead
A bottle that drowns a dream
Selfish of life, pain always screams
Suicide is dead
Anger grows as guilt cries
My world disappears before my eyes
Pills are taken, I lost count
Death coming soon as the tension mounts
Suicide is dead
Air escapes the needle’s sin
Life goes to sleep, now reality begins
The exit sign hangs over the door
Tears are bleeding, the heart wants more
Suicide is dead
I put a knife to my arm
Thoughts of cutting, to only myself I harm
Eyes and minds judge with disdain
Not even to try to understand my pain
Suicide is dead
Drugs escape my reality
I’m on display for no one to see
Darkness always holding me tight
My sins I begged to lose my fight
Suicide is dead
Five times I missed hitting the wall
Clouds kept me away, never getting the call
Kind words talking making sense
Loved ones hurting at my expense
Suicide is dead
I listened to their words, I cried
All my skeletons I no longer hide
Kind words they spoke, for me they cared
A reason to live, my soul is spared
Suicide is dead
Now I use the words in my head
Not falling down, I write instead
Kind words, get help, for now I thrive
Suicide is dead
But I am alive
Grant H. Wass
Carson City
