Cast down beneath a waterfall of sorrow
Begging to know if there will be a tomorrow
While sinking into a morass of self-doubt
Unable to see if there’s a possible way out.

The voices one hears have so many sharp edges
Some driven right down to jump of high ledges
While ghouls stand around to share an excitement
Victims themselves, their lack of enlightenment.

The last-minute thoughts of where life was breached
A finality of purpose is sadly now reached
One step and it ends and the pain goes away
There’ll be no more living and no more next day.

What causes some people to end things this way
That last final action that takes all away
Perhaps it’s our failure, we’re not watching out
We get wrapped up in our life and don’t hear their shout.

There isn’t a person whose life ends this way
Who’s not shown the signs of unhappiness’ sway
But we’re blind to their problems, we don’t want to know
As blithely we miss all the pain that they show.

It’s only much later when it’s far far too late
When notices come with a church service date
That we express surprise and say ‘course we will come’
But the signs were all there, we were just far too dumb.

©Joe Wilson – Some Choose Suicide 2014

I have this fear that you will discover that I’m not as great.
I am strong, but I break.

All the women walk down the street,
All beautiful and petite.

I look down the street to stumble upon long slender legs and dainty feet,
Only to realize it is because she does not eat.

I see a distorted image constructed by society’s idea of beauty,
And I am no longer aware of my duty.

People are always trying to define you,
That is what makes us all so blue.

I will never be good enough,
Which makes life so much more rough.

All I do is cry,
But my tears are running dry.

I sit here with a blade to my arm,
It has gotten so bad I turned to self harm.

I will never be good enough for you.
And with that I bid you adieu.

As I close my eyes,
The room fills with my cries.

Society is eating me alive.
When did this depression arrive?

All I want to do is heal.
But nothing here is real.

Here’s to society for making me hate myself.
You can place your trophies up on your shelf.

You injected your poison into my mind.
Heaven forbid you be the least bit kind.

This is the real world, no glass shoe.
Do not fall into the hole and let society define you.

I am not a poet...I am just a M.A.N
Living in a world where words can stand
Sharing these lines so you can feel
My passion for this art is for real
Infinite emotions I feel inside  
Will not stay silent nor will I hide
Writing clever lines was never a plan
Emotions open up now I understand
Explosion of thought put on paper
Reality smokes all inhale the vapor
Mold it..fold it..write it on a line
Infuse it with my soul than I sign
M.A.N capture your imagination then blend
Too much of me I would not recommend
Scorpio I am..don't play with me
You might get stung by your destiny
I am one finger in a larger hand
I am not a Poet..I am just a M.A.N