The worn out carpet in your room,
Caged, restless despair.
The constant caressing of your feet,
A pathway you paved there.

Gritty hopes and teenage dreams,
First vacuum packed, then put on hold.
Like dying embers in a hearth,
The expiry date now old.

The medication didn't work,
You quit a year ago.
The side effects, the ugly thoughts,
What's me? What's placebo?

My fear has been of returning home,
To find you lifeless with a note.
A mother screams, a father cries,
How can I look at what you wrote?