#suicideattempt
why do you attempt to save me,
when i have nothing else better to do than cry
so please, for the love of everything
let me die
all of these cold, heavy feelings
they're too much to bear, too much to hide
please, don't ask about them
just let me die
i loved every little name you gave me
everything you did, yet it was all a lie
don't try to comfort me now
let me rest, let me die
i did everything i could to keep you
everything i could to help myself stay alive
it's too much for me now, it's too much pain
with a goodbye, i beg for you to let me die.
Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 9:30 PM UTC
Now I’m here.
Still breathing, somehow.
Skin full of bandages.
Bones that don’t work right.
Machines that beep
like they’re disappointed I made it back.
They say I’m lucky.
That I survived.
That it wasn’t my time.
But if it wasn’t,
why does it still feel like
I left the real me on the concrete?
Dad didn’t come.
She did,
but only to sign papers
and shake her head.
Her words still burn:
”Guess you’re not even good at this.”
I thought it would feel like a clean slate.
Like waking up would mean
something changed.
But it didn’t.
I’m still the same hollow girl,
just stitched back together,
like that’s enough.
They gave me a new journal
with blank pages
and hopeful prompts.
But I don’t want hope.
I want to know
why being alive
still hurts more than falling ever did.
I don’t know if I’ll write again.
Maybe this is it.
Maybe this is the only thing
I had left to say.
I jumped.
And I survived.
But that doesn’t mean
I’m okay.
Jul 26, 2025
Jul 26, 2025 at 8:49 PM UTC
Oh, don’t worry
I didn’t die.
What a relief, right?
Because that would’ve been
”a tragic mess to explain.”
That’s what she said, word for word.
Not, ”Im glad you’re okay.”
Not, ”You matter.”
Just wow, what a mess that would’ve been in the boarding school bathroom.
As if I was just
another inconvenience to mop up.
Imagine that scene
a girl on cold tile,
27 stitches worth of silence,
and not one ******* hug
when I came back.
My arm still hurts.
Parts of it are numb,
like the feeling crawled from my brain
into my skin.
Like my body’s trying to forget,
but my nerves won’t let me.
It’s sore and dead and too alive
all at once.
I’m fifteen.
But I feel ancient.
Like I’ve already lived
through a war no one talks about.
Step mother told me,
”No one's going to help you.”
“No one’s going to believe you.”
Like she was proud of that prophecy.
Like she wanted me to drown
just so she could say
”told you so.”
And Mum
the original vanisher
she looked at me
and threw down the match:
”I don’t want to be your mum.”
Cool.
Love that for me.
Really sets the tone
for a happy childhood, huh?
So now I live at school.
In a dorm, in a room,
in a body that won’t forget
the blood, the cold, the shaking hands,
the locked door.
They say,
“You’re going to get therapy soon.”
Like that’s supposed to fix
a life built out of
people who left.
What if I sit down
and say all the things
I’ve kept under my skin,
and they just blink?
What if I unwrap my wound
and they say
”Oh. That’s it?”
I write because it’s the only way
I don’t scream.
I rhyme because the truth
sounds less deadly in a rhythm.
And yeah
if this poem makes you uncomfortable,
then good.
Let it.
Because I sat on that bathroom floor
and almost didn’t get back up,
and all they worried about
was who’d have to explain it.
So next time you say,
”You're lucky you didn’t go through with it,”
remember:
I already did.
I just happened to survive.
Jun 18, 2025
Jun 18, 2025 at 4:43 PM UTC
you said will you be there to catch me and I said okay
and i was there over and over again
I haven't been a kid since year seven
cause the ledge is always waiting to swallow all my friends
we don't talk anymore but i still think of you sometimes
because i held you tight, because i kept you alive
you asked me to catch you
and now I don't know how to let go
Oct 5, 2024
Oct 5, 2024 at 11:46 PM UTC
Why do I matter? Why should I stay?
Because where you leave your pain and suffering, many people who are still here will pick it up... Yes, you may feel like no one cares or they wouldn’t notice if you left, but you are wrong. You're worth much more than you realize. Every persons life is important and meaningful because of how we are all connected. Look around... how many people are in your world? How many people have you come in contact with? Even if they never met you in person, even if they've never said a word to you; your death would affect their life.
One of my brother’s best friends died when we were in high school. Geoff was never a huge part in my life, but he was in my world. He was always over my house because my brother and his were best friends and they were swim/water polo teammates. His death was caused by meningitis, not suicide, but even so, it impacted so many people and took everyone by surprise. When they announced his name over the loud speaker that day at school, I felt a part of my heart break... Because I knew that right then, his parents, sister and his older brother were in so much pain... Because I knew all of his friends, my brother included, were crying, mourning and thinking of all of the times they had had with him. Even to this day, almost 10 years later, people still post things about him on Facebook. Every year on his birthday, I see people sharing photos and memories. I see his brothers posts on the anniversary of his death and my heart breaks over and over. I watched his brother collapse and scream — crying over the loss of his brother. I'll never forget that sound. I can never forget that image. His parents had a complete mental break down. His mom was actually institutionalized afterwards because she was a danger to herself. His father became an alcoholic very soon after Geoffs death. No one could comprehend what life was going to be like without Geoff. Even people like me, someone who only knew him in passing, were affected by his death. You may think that you are worthless, that no one will miss you, that this pain will never end, but you aren’t, they will, and it will. Trust me love. I’ve gone through 27 years of fighting mental illness, loss, and suicide attempts. I know exactly what you’re going through, but committing suicide would destroy a lot of people. This is a part of the reason I hold on. So, Please don't give up. It gets better.
Feb 12, 2020
Feb 12, 2020 at 1:55 PM UTC
A dose of 30 paracetamol
And lithium to help keep sane
You lie in a bed with drips
Vomiting out your pain
The veins on your arm stick out
Blue against dark red scars
There are bags under your eyes
Black like a sky of stars
I hold on to your thin arms
And I hope it doesn't hurt
"Don't hurt yourself again"
But my words are lost in your shirt
You're home sometimes, or not
A long, long stay away
I miss you when you're gone
And you missed my birthday.
Dec 16, 2019
Dec 16, 2019 at 4:08 PM UTC
What can I say
I'm trying to send a message
A few words to portray
Exactly what's going on in my head
Things really aren't clear
I feel a bit dead
I don't know why I'm here
I need to get up, and get ahead
Outpace them all
Like I know I can
Scale the "impossible" wall
An became a woman
I know I'm strong
I know I'm intelligent
I admit when I'm wrong
(can't find a rhyme but you get the hint)
I'm a critical thinker
I see through the lines
But my mind's beginning to splinter
I'm not actually fine
The world's driving me mad
And I'm feeling homicidal
Then stop feeling bad
For being suicidal
I don't like it here enough
To put up with ****
Lights out like *****
Don't think I tried well I did
Four times in one year
Guess I really wanna get out of here
I spilled one last tear
And knew death was near
First time I cut a tad too deep
Second time I took a little too much Paracetamol
Next I tried to hang myself, failed and felt like a creep
Then I thought a lot about jumping off of walls
Finally I overdosed
I was home alone
No one knows
It hurt a lot
My life flashed before my eyes
I knew I was going to die
Somehow I woke up alive
And now I'm here writing dumb ****
And thinking about number five
Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 6:24 AM UTC
What happened ?
To that little girl
Where did she go ?
It all happened to fast
Something went horribly wrong
After four years I still don't know what
That little girl is dead and gone
Her innocence left to rot
I looked in the mirror this morning
Like every other day
And what I saw was torturing
Like every other day
Who is the stranger in the mirror ?
Whose are those empty eyes staring back at me ?
Why are the eyes so empty ?
What happened to you ?
What happened ?
I feel so very detached
My memories don't feel like mine
A big black chain is attached
To my ever dying mind
Voices are getting louder
Asking silly questions
Why don't I know the answer ?
Why are they screaming depression ?
What ever happened ?
To the happy little girl ?
Was she stolen away in the night ?
Passed on to another world ?
I don't know
I don't know anything
Anymore
Why are there scars
On my arms ?
My arms aren't as scarred as my heart
What's with all the scars ?
I don't remember falling
I remember the blades
Slipping through my skin
I remember the tang of my dark red blood
As my life line wore so thin
I remember the pills in my hand
I remember the feeling of them scrambling to get down my throat
I remember the soft feeling
Of the cigarette between my cracked lips
I remember the smooth cool of the beer flowing across my tongue
I remember all those things I shouldn't
I don't remember the things I should
A little grave yard in my heart
For everything I've lost
Jun 15, 2019
Jun 15, 2019 at 7:20 AM UTC
Drifting over asphalt,
stars slipping through the sunroof.
Full throttle.
He turned all to suddenly
(and not suddenly enough)
right into me.
Jokes on him,
he turned with plenty of room
I just never hit the break.
And as the story goes
he’s blamed as the guy
who killed my parents daughter,
when actually she slipped away,
through the sunroof and to the stars,
many years ago...
Apr 24, 2019
Apr 24, 2019 at 2:47 AM UTC
Ever since that evening,
I've come to realize that nothing I do will matter.
That evening, when you coaxed me into leaving everyone.
You told me that a better opportunity would never come, and I believed you.
So, that evening,
I followed your plans, I gave into your whispers.
You dropped capsules into a paper bathroom cup.
My hands were shaking.
You gave me the poisonous cup, turned the handle on the sink.
I filled it with cold water.
And there was the moment,
where I doubted the necessity of it.
Your hand grabbed my cheeks, sharp nails digging into my skin.
Screaming, shouting in my face.
"Stupid kid, worthless child! Do as you're told!"
I broke away from your grip,
downing the bitter liquid.
Only stopping to refill the cup,
chugging down the rest of the dissolved pills.
You walked me back to my room,
tucked me into bed.
Bade me farewell.
Told me there'd be consequences if I woke.
For an hour, I couldn't stop shivering.
My vision was blurry and splotchy.
My lungs burned with every breath until I finally fell asleep.
But, your plan had failed.
The next morning, I woke.
I spent the day laying around, barely eating.
Trying to get over sickening nausea and stomach pains.
Somehow, my body had gotten rid of the toxins
You're still here, I can't rid myself of you.
Ever since that evening,
I can't drink out of a paper cup without gagging.
Ever since that evening,
I've come to realize that nothing I do matters.
Feb 9, 2019
Feb 9, 2019 at 10:08 PM UTC
You tried to pull a gun on me.
I just pulled mine faster
But what you don't know is
Three days later
I put my gun to my head.
I couldn't live with the fact
That I almost pulled the trigger on you
That I was ready to stop your threat.
What you don't know is one month later
I still had nightmares
That I overdosed on pills
Hoping to never wake up.
Six months later
I still see your face
I still think of the what ifs
One year later
I still wake up screaming
Fighting your invisible threat.
One year and six months later
You voice still haunts me.
You were eager to **** be because I wore a badge and gun.
My coworkers ***** me.
Two against me.
What you two didnt see
The detectives interrogated me.
Told me I asked for it
I should have fought back
One day later the detective picks me up
I tried over dosing minutes before they came
They noticed the cuts but didn't notice
That I was falling fast
I couldn't keep my eyes open.
My speech was slurring
I walked like i was drunk
I made it through the **** kit
I got home and slept for three days straight
One month later i quit my job.
My body couldn't handle the stress
I kept dissociating.
Six months later
I still couldn't have ***
I started learning jujitsu
I had bought a gun
One year later
I was more confident
But i still feared ***
I feared men
I still had nightmares
Two years later
I'm still managing to struggle
I still hear your voices
Still see your faces
Still feel you in my dreams
Two years and six months later
I'm more confident.
I still have difficulty with men.
But now I am well on my way to be a police officer
An EMT
I can't let you win!
Ever!
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 11:52 PM UTC
The sky cries for me
I walk alone
No thoughts or feelings
Just a desire to go
To the river
Into the river
Just to float
And maybe drown
My blue hair ripples
Cold water makes my body panic
My lungs are gasping
I fall under
Riding the current
Wherever it wants me to go
I float back to the surface
Thanks to my empty soul
Today's not the day
Perhaps tomorrow
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 10:11 PM UTC
At 3am when I’m lonely and my mind neurotic.
I find comfort in messaging you,
Although now purely platonic.
I sink deep into old memories,
Where you would hold and adore me.
Lust and love are what makes life worth living.
Now I’m just high all time and everything’s boring.
Not until recently had I fathomed my impact as lover.
I played heedlessly with your mind,
Leaving you no chance to recover.
I left you thinking there was no way out,
That this was the final labyrinth.
You never should have had felt like you needed to resort to that shit.
I never should have smiled that day at the sad boy in the plaid shirt and gold Rolex counterfeit
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 7:07 PM UTC
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
my sister lies in a hospital bed after a suicide attempt.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
yesterday i was at the mall while my sister was rushed to the er.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
she swallowed a bottle of pills yesterday to try to make the hurt go away.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
her heart rate went down too low.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
she needed me when i wasn't there.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
my nightmares have become a reality.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
she's not dead, but she isn't alive.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
the demons lurk in her eyes and i want them gone as much as she does.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
she looked so pale with the charcoal staining her tongue black.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
i sit here with a blade and consider breaking my promise.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
i continue to repeat these lines.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
maybe it's a mantra, but it feels like my last words.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
i want her back home.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
the desperation in my soul begins to surface.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
come home soon squish.
it's january twenty-second, two-thousand eighteen.
otherwise i might join you in that hospital bed.
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 1:20 AM UTC
***** lived on your tongue,
***** lived in her throat.
there's a hiding girl,
she's crying and she's also bleeding.
you bend down, old levi jeans
suffocating your knees.
"it's alright," you say to her, "I promise."
but you can tell she knows its a lie.
her first time riding a bike,
you push her, let her go.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1 -- blast off.
she falls and scrapes her hands.
she earns a scar on her ankle.
you kiss her,
she turns away.
you shush her in bed,
sooth the crying girl.
"don't tell a single soul"
she tells her 4th grade teacher.
13,
nicotine washed into her hair.
she blows, fogs the window,
draws a face -- its frowning
her hair is the same color as her bleeding wrist.
13,
three people are holding her down.
it takes her back to the
sinking rocks she threw in the river,
the sinking mattress she was pushed into.
the old, sad man.
"sedate her,"
make her disappear.
don't kiss her,
she doesn't want to be kissed.
*****
beads of sweat.
an axe, a noose, and a pool of water in the tub.
she decides on none,
she goes back to the river to find the rocks.
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 4:31 PM UTC