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 May 2016 JR Potts
Luna Fides
The first thing about suicidal people is that they're not always the people who lay in bed, cry or sulk in a dark room. In fact, that’s a common misconception. Most of them, are highly-functional people. They laugh, talk with their friends, go to work, go to school, whatever. They do the things they need to do. It's part of the routine. But they still feel that they don't want to live anymore.

You see, just because they do things living people do doesn’t mean they’re not dead inside.

Second, suicidal people don’t want help. They know they need help but they don’t want it. Because they know you can't help them. You can try. Words of encouragement can help them understand that you want them to live and that people care about them. Words of encouragement help them stay for a while longer. But it doesn't make them want to live. At the end of the day, their resolve to die, doesn't change. You can't help them. They want to help themselves. But they don’t know how. The world is a ******-up place. Now all they want is relief.

And that is death.

Third, when suicidal people tell you they want to die, it's not for attention. But it's not for help, either. When they tell you they want to die, they're tasting the words come out of their mouths. They're tasting the sweetness of each syllable and bitterness of it all at the same time. And they're afraid that it tastes good. That it tastes just right. It echoes in their heads and they want to swallow death instead of life eating them alive.

Fourth, suicidal people don't need to hear the words "Please be okay." 'Cause more than you, that's the only thing that they want. To be okay. To be fine. But they’re not. They wrestle with their demons everyday only to find out that they’re only making love with them all along.

Fifth, most suicidal people don't show how they're suffering. And most of the time it's because they don't know how to say it to people. They don't know how to explain it to other people. That waking up is sometimes the hardest thing to do. That waking up is sometimes the worst thing that's been happening to them. How can you make normal people understand that? How can normal people understand that suicide isn't just lonely and depressed and gloomy ****? Suicide is also the exhaustion of this world.

So when people say they didn't see it coming. They really won't.

Sixth, most people think suicidal people are weak, lame *** beings. But the truth is, sometimes, they're the strongest people you'll ever meet. Why? Because they’ve been through hell and they’re still looking at you straight in the eye as if the world has not crumbled beneath them. It's just that they have become strong enough to want to die. What people don’t realize is that, being strong is not a state of being, it is earned. You have to do your ****, keep your **** together and still be able to actually be there for other people. But it's tiring. Most people do not understand that just because a person is strong doesn’t mean everything is alright. In fact, everything is not alright, that’s why they’re strong. Everything is falling apart but they appear intact.

Do you even realize how hard that is?

Everyday you keep fighting back and everyday you fall to the ground. Nothing changes. You lose everyday. Sure, some days are happy days. Good things happen once in a while. But happy things don't last. All good things must come to an end. And when you've come to that realization, what's more to live for? When you know you'll be happy then sad or angry or tired later on? Most people will say that that's what life is about.

"Overcoming challenges!" Well, I say, *******. I know everybody is fighting their own battles. But we deal with our battles differently. And lucky you, you haven’t given up yet. But suicidal people are just done with putting up concrete filling when all they feel inside is empty.

Seventh, suicidal people have been through a lot and they have fought and fought. That's why they still haven't pulled the trigger to their heads. But the thing is, life has become more of a war for them rather than something they must enjoy. They don't understand the essence of it anymore. They're just tired. They don't know when it will all end. They don't know how to fight wars when all they got are bare hands and a body that gets easily scraped and bruised.

Everyday they keep fighting it.
Everyday they lose.

But suicidal people,
God, they’re trying.
They really are.
 May 2016 JR Potts
Birdy
Fuse
 May 2016 JR Potts
Birdy
You took the innocence from my lips
Whilst carrying explosives at your hips
Tied my bomb and took a piece of my chest
Just to frame it
In a picture in the papers

I was watching the fuse to be lit
And you gambling that I would make it
Out of that lane
So I could do it all over again
I told you I'd give my life for you but I had no idea I would do it twice
 May 2016 JR Potts
October Rain
What happened to my happiness? To the days that were OK and my smiles were genuine. Oh, that's right I grew up and saw the darkness of the world. That little girl who used to love playing with dolls and sing is no more. All that's left of her is a broken shell. She wears a broken smile upon her lips. And the metal has touched her skin  to many times. The light has died inside of her and all that's left is a cold dark shell of something that can never be fixed.

She is the girl with the broken smile....
No
no
no
You are wrong.
About me.
You have always been one for anger,
violence and oppression
You have always been one
to lash out against others who
don't agree with you.
You say it's possible to change,
I've been waiting for years
This abuse,
this warfare
is my life now.
I wish I could go back
to a time
when I could be myself.
But,
like many other things
it just isn't possible
You have wrecked me.
My life
my soul
my hope
my dreams
my aspirations
my everything
you have made depression
a ******* reality
You ******* my life,
stirred my family,
and caused nothing but raw hate from me.
You are so cold.
So unforgiving
You preach about the "good lord"
where was he when you were on top of me?
YOU ARE A ******* *****
do you know that, dear sir?
YOU HAVE NO RESPECT FOR HUMAN LIFE
did god tell you that yet?
YOU ARE A VICIOUS ****** WITH A FIST
that's really quite scary.
I am so tired of you
I am going to leave soon.
From you,
from all of this.
And when I'm gone,
you''l have to wonder,
"Where did I go wrongGgGgGg?"
Well let me tell ya,
you went wrong
the very day
you met me.
*****.
I ******* hate you.
Everything about you.
Everything.
I'm breaking down.
can you see my cracks?
I feel so alone.
You told me that.
I have gotten darker by the day,
and I don't care if I stay in this world.
I'm losing all I care about,
because your hate is like poison.
It spreads.
Through me,
through mom,
through the whole **** family.
And you sit there,
on that god forsaken couch
gorging yourself in snacks and sweets,
expecting the world to bow
before your swollen feet
I am angry "dad"
I am upset.
You will feel it soon.
I can promise you that.
You have nothing but a dead son coming,
better start planning.
And if you touch my sister,
death is coming
goodbye, Mr "dad"
*I'll see you in hell
 May 2016 JR Potts
eli
chernobyl
 May 2016 JR Potts
eli
if love is a battlefield,
than my mind must be Chernobyl.
a nuclear war zone,
befitting,
I spent years developing a nuclear war head,
that can find lodging in your head.

it lays resident on the pillow on my bed,
my childhood shed,
while bad memories flow like a water drain up ahead,
and may remain with me until death.

maybe such a stigma on depression exists,
because no one still really knows what it is
hell, my mind can compute equations,
spit out essays,
but mental illness?
to solve mine would be aimless.

it lurks, it attacks, it burns
left like a forest fire to churn.
eats up your insides, you feel your ending coming close,
with no conclusiveness a doctor can diagnose.
only if life came with an easy mode,
maybe i'd be better off dealing with this alone.

this is for all the kids
who made Adam's song their song,
or find reprieve at the bottom of a ****,
and find life a little bit too long.

can you hear the siren?
three, two...
seconds to eruption
one...
boom.
no time to snooze.

i wake and
immediately collapse into
pieces.
scattered,
in the people i will encounter today
until i come home
empty,
no parts of me left to be seen.
until i finally fall in bed,
close my eyes,
count 1, 2, 3,
and do it
all over again.
There is always something in the blood
Something fascinating even for a god
The rush of euphoria and high
whenever a blade cut comes nigh

The thick red syrup of life
Like rubies cascading on flesh pipes
The feeling you get when
You have cut your skin open

The act is mildly repulsing
Yet, to watch it is deeply fascinating
As you see your life flow by
And lose it in a blink of an eye

The only question once you go high
When Death is sitting nearby
And all hopes come to die
Is one on your lips so dry

How long will it last?
 May 2016 JR Potts
SJ
RED
 May 2016 JR Potts
SJ
RED
She sees the red dripping from her wrist.
Onto the floor as she walks,
Staining against thick thighs.
Swirling down the drain while washing her hair.
The red drips into her food as she cooks.
Sizzling when it hits the comal.
She sees it smear on her lovers flesh.
Riding slow or riding fast.
Paint on hot living canvas.
She watches as it soaks into her dogs leash.
Leaving red prints on the sidewalk.
Marveling at the hue, arms pointed up wards.
The sun, bright and warm against her skin.
A smile forms upon thin lips.
The red splatters faster on all she touches.
It's not that she wants to die, it's more like she sees the option but refuses to opt out that way.
 May 2016 JR Potts
Liam C Calhoun
An hour might as well be a year,
A life, a night lacking sleep,
Something sweet but just outta reach,
Or song, one line, that one line,
With memories sweeter than ice cream,
And crescendo akin to broken mirrors.

Long gone, would be the “clickety-clack,”
The coming and going of a train;
Meaning to stop, but only to pass you by,
Offering the slightest dust, hints to where
You should have been come ‘morrow;
Left would be an only, lonely to posit –

Why can the gulls go when I can’t?
A memory from the day I wanted to die; now my daughter is sleeping next to me in a bassinet.
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