"I can see my door, my bed, my window, my chair, and my table.

"I can feel my spine against the wall, my feet against the floor, my jaw tightly shut, and my fingernails buried in my arms.

"I can hear the wind coming in from the open window, my heartbeat rapidly thumping, and that familiar voice in my head, shouting once again.

"I can smell the dampness of the ground outside as the breeze carries it to my room, and the sickly sweet odor from the soap used on my hands.

"I can taste my blood spilling from the bite in my lip; my last harsh reminder that

When you call a suicide prevention hotline, they will often ask you to describe to them 5 things you can see, 4 things you can feel, 3 things you can hear, 2 things you can smell, and 1 thing you can taste to help ease anxiety. I hope this poem helps someone struggling to look forward, because believe me, it does get better.
Lance Estacio Dec 2017

Nothing's in accord
So why not a sword
No one will hear
What then shall I fear
Nobody seems to care
So why can't I dare
There's not even an eye
Finally, a chance to fly
I'll put my blade upon my vein
This will be my final pain
A step or two from a building's ledge
At last I'll see my life on edge
Hanging from the gallows I will swing
After this I can spread wide my wings
Now my blood rushes over me
It's getting dark I can barely see
Little by little I'm out of air
What have I done please help me spare
The light I thought that I will see
Is actually darkness, it's consuming me
To call for help I want to shout
Rescue me, please take me out
I was deceived by my ownself's death
Plotting it was my biggest regret
Whom shall I blame, it is my fault
It is my sin that of hope I was short
It is my sin, It is my fault
It is my fault
It is my fault
Is it really my fault?
No one heard me when I was afraid
Is it still my sin that no one cared?
Nobody helped when I was frail and weak
Nobody knew that my mind and soul was sick
Is it my fault that I felt unloved?
That no one listened to my deepest sobs
These words are what I'm leaving here
Make this live, please make them hear
I may be forgotten, I may be missed
But one last request, let me now rest in peace

to ate Halen, no, it isn't your fault
Emily Rosario Nov 2017

I’ve been watching videos
On a certain scenario
The effects it has on others
What it would do to my mother
I overthink everything
I feel like no ones is listening
Pushing my feelings aside
Slowly dying inside
I’m happy to be me
Yet I keep thinking of how it would be
If I commit suicide
Thinking of how I’m not qualified
Reasons why I should stop crying
Motivation to keep on trying
I am loved by many people
To them I am like a flower’s sepal
There for support
Yet they respond to me with retort
I’m am not to be taken serious
Like as if my feelings are oblivious
The joy I show to others is counterfeit
I think of suicide more than I’d like to admit
I’ve never committed self harm
So don’t ring the alarm
I keep trying to restrain
I don’t want to cause my loved ones pain
I’m trying to be selfless
But right now I just feel helpless

Struggling with thoughts of suicide? Reach out. They are available 24/7 at 1-800-273-TALK (8255).
Mims Sep 2017

I haven't spent
Enough time around you
To know
When you're at your worst

And that's not because
I haven't wanted to

But I picture you
In the dark
Not telling your mothers anything
"I don't wanna leave home"
Dark days
For all of us
Come and go
But what if they don't go?

What if you can't let go of him
Or her
And you find yourself stranded in an ocean of your own isolation
My dear
I don't ever want you to think you're alone
I know how hard it is to just
Pick up the phone

But I need you
And if your dark days get darker
And you need me
I will bring a boat
I will not ever let you drown
You were not left for dead
I know you think your ship is sinking
But just keep up your head
Until I come and get you

Because that's what I do for friends.

I'm always here.
And this goes for everyone.
Jillian Jesser May 2017

I sit and wonder if it is all
ending and if it is meaningless
and I can't see the reason to even
try and then I hear a voice
echo within me that says
you will see, wait for tomorrow
you will see.

Jillian Jesser May 2017

solitude marks the height of my contentment
no agreements to make
I don't have to see faces
nods smiles masked aggression
I don't have to act
I don't have to trade facade for facade
with my peers
do I even have peers?

at night, I feel a stillness
so deep, so harsh, so honest
I don't have to live this lie
explain why I'm fine
why everything is fine
because, it's not
nothing's fine

I am a million clashing universes
filled with endless dying stars
and I reach out
to the other universes
and shrink back
          and at night
I fill the stillness
  the stars collapsing
every synapse bending
toward destruction

no want
               no need
                             no crying out for more

at night there is no other
no one to say my name falsely
and when I sleep
the ocean of my subconscious
carries me to sleeping cures
takes me away for years
to great expanses of colorful
living worlds
where I feel
where my emotions are tangible
       they keep me company for
a millennia
         I wake to this doll world
where a friend asks
how are you doing
and she's doing it out of obligation
                                                and there's no color
and I have no emotion
and I feel nothing

Life is the waiting room for the exploration of that dream world

and every night
I taste it
I touch it
I breathe in its vibrance
and the only want
is to never wake
to this grey world
to never have to answer



Ella Gwen Mar 2017

There was a full stop
hedged on a semi-colon,
but you just flew straight through both.

A train wreck thunderstorm, lightning bolt
smiles that were just a touch too bright.

One thing fell and then another, repeated,
endless cycles of your closed eyes, averted face,
until the pebbles that fell graduated to stones,
to boulders, and you turned and ran towards them.

Each step was a decision, each step another false idea,
another pathetic tragedy, trapped in viscous thought
as silence became a screaming, scorching pain after
you chose to become the enemy.

I was here, I was breathing, I was one step away
from you. But you did not reach for me, you did
not speak. You did not call. I left my phone on for you but
you did not call.

You stole secret to the edge and ripped yourself asunder.
You wrapped your fingers around our throats.
You decided to disappear your problems, to rest in pieces.
You resolved we should be the ones left to suffer,
standing perpetually in your shadow.

I still suffer. I am still here. I am still breathing, but it
is no thanks to you. Your mother cannot look at me anymore.
She says I remind her too much. She doesn't breathe,
she doesn't talk, she doesn't call.

She is the remnant you left behind, cast off like an old coat,
worn and weary and wasted.

Do you remember me? Do either of you remember me?
I cannot do it anymore.

Your legacy is made of salt and water
and all I want to do is forget.

Brother. Mother. Sister;
the family tree is dead.

There is always someone you can talk to and always someone who will be devastated by the loss of you. Do not break their hearts. Ask for help.
Call 116 123 (free UK helpline for Samaritans), talk to a doctor, talk to your friends, talk to your family, talk to a nice stranger, talk to someone like me who will be broken and angry when you're gone. Please.
Nathan Box Jan 2017

For my 2016 writing project, I’ve decided to write a single line of poetry every day for an entire year. Below, is November’s poem. Enjoy!

Thirty-three years old.
A brother lost.
A father fighting on.
A mother standing tall.

I feel brave.
Only death can defeat me.
It nearly did.

Still, I stand.
We all do.

We are like trees in a windstorm.

Life discounts me.
That is its mistake.

We've been to the brink.
We've stared over the cliff.
Edges are nothing to be feared.

Life defined in two parts.
My own personal B.C. and A.D.
Before destroys me.
The next is mine.

With bated breath.
I turn the page.
I begin writing a new chapter.

Much will be said of this time.
It is my beacon of hope.

These hours are mine.

Numbers on a wall,
Each with a purpose.

Let's use this story.
Let's save a soul.
November 3rd can change things.

Steven Forrester Sep 2016

I can't tell you
How many times
My mind
The end
Looks mighty friendly

The world is painful
Its cruel
Am I strong enough?
What does this feeling fuel?

My mind watches
As a bullet rips through my brain
And blood stains my walls
And I'm left as a shell

But then.....

I picture
My sister
Finding me

My niece crying

My ex dropping to her knees
From the phone call

The paramedics covering my face

And my daughter's smile....

And I cry.

I cry because the end of your life
Brings pain to everyone you've loved
And every life you've touched

I would rather bear my pain
And carry on

Then hurt the ones I love

And so I kept on living.....

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