This poem is a rather dark piece and is on the topic suicide. Suicide is something very sensitive to me as my father committed suicide in November of 2014. Although I wrote this poem with feeling, it is not how I feel about myself. If you or someone you love is having thoughts of suicide please please call the suicide prevention hotline.
Canada and the USA: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)
A full list of suicide prevention hotlines around the world is available HERE.
He sits all alone in his room
Picking up what pieces he can
He can’t shake this feeling of doom
as he holds what is left in his hand
The shards have all fallen from him
Like glass from a fell picture frame
The pieces all fall from within
And no one remembers his name
No one remembers the tears
That glistened in his soft eyes
All he can see is the pain and the fear
And all those who told him the lies
He knows that he should regret
Hurting the ones who say that they care
Now waiting for deaths soft caress
Only now he admits that he’s scared
He thinks that he won’t be missed
No more chances, he can’t ask for help
Blood pours when he opens his wrist
With a jagged, sharp shard of himself.
©2015 Alexander Hicks