A Shard of Himself

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

I will be okay…

Have you ever had someone you love
Take their own life?
Shock sets in first.

The feeling that reality is something that you left in the dust behind you.
And in the coming weeks, part of you will hold on to that.
Part of you will hold on to that so strongly that you will keep looking at the door every time it makes a noise expecting him to walk in, only to see that it’s another person – here to remind you that he’s dead and gone express their condolences – when all you want is to forget that this is real. The shock never goes away.

Part of you will always be in disbelief.

You will want to cry – but you won’t.
Because you can’t.
You can’t cry over what didn’t really happen right?

Then, you will.

The tears will come suddenly. You will not be able to stop them, nor will you want to.

Get used to it.
Every little thing that goes wrong – every little thing that goes right – will bring more tears.
You will cry for hours, days, weeks, maybe even months.

You’ll hate yourself for crying so much, you’ll start to think that all these people – none of these people…

None of these people understand

You’ll be angry at them – at yourself.


Not yet…

But I will be…

Goodbye dad…I miss you…



She sits alone in silence
In the darkness of her mind
Like watching waterfalls
Her thoughts leave her behind
Open books lay scattered
Under piles of torn up paper
Each page a fractured memory
The shadow that was her life
That tortured her each day
Ending over and over again

©2013 Alex Hicks

Dark Sleep (Part 2)

Part 2 guys and gals, this contains blood and death. You’ve been warned.

So last night you made a plan
That if you cannot have her hand
None will have her in their bed
None can have that which is dead
So you drive to her nightly corner
Wondering if anyone will mourn her
She gets in with a polite smile
Looks at you “it’s been a while”
You nod at her and smile back
eleven pm, right on track
Back to your place and through the door
Soon enough you’ll love her no more
She strips her clothes and on the bed
On your pillow she rests her head
You get in and lie with her
You know now this is for sure
You pretend to sleep and she gets up
In the bathroom grabs a cup
In the mirror there you stand
Right behind her, knife in hand
She tries to scream but you’re too fast
and her next breath will be her last
The knife sinks in and tears are shed
She doesn’t know why you want her dead
You lean in and whisper clear
I just wanted you my dear
You told me there was never a chance
You made up your mind without a glance
Her body drops and in something drops
A small and square red velvet box
You pick it up and look inside
And suddenly it’s you who’se died
Inside the box there sat a ring
A simple small engagement ring
And folded small a little note
And within it she had wrote:
“I’m giving this small ring to you
and here’s what I want you to do:
take me to dinner, someplace fine
And order us a bottle of wine;
Put the ring there in my glass
and when I drink, on one knee ask
If I will be thy wedded wife
From now until the end of life.
I’ll say yes, and then for sure
I will be a whore no more
I will be your beautiful bride
And forever we’ll be filled with pride.”
You take the knife, eyes filled with tears
You’ve realized your biggest fear
It’s not being alone as it were
It’s living your life without her
Your steady the knife at your own heart
And look at her as all goes dark
And plunge the knife into your chest
And finally you both may rest
A story told through simple rhyme
Cannot condone a passion crime
So the old phrase remains strong and tall
Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.
©2013 Alex Hicks

Symphony of the Storm

WARNING: This does not in any way relate to my life. This poem is very dark. If you’re looking for something cheery, this will not be the poem for you. This poem touches on the topic of suicide, in the form of a story. Consider yourself warned.

Lighting strikes a tree
and the fire crackles bright
The temper of the storm
Lit by the fires light
Eves filling with water
Released into the groud
The storms subtle symphony
A peaceful restful sound
A home dark curtains open
A man listens to the song
His preperations are complete
His own resolve is gone.
The lighting cracks
The thunder roars
He ties the rope
and locks the doors
The rain wails on his window
The thunder at his door
One step, tense rope.
The man is now no more.
The rain sets the rhythm
The thunder brings the beat
The lighting is the ambiance
Symphonic storm complete.
©2013 Alex Hicks

Death, It’s a Thing

So yeah
Death is a thing
and yeah
It sucks
But also
It happens
To everyone
At some point.
So why worry
It’s beyond
your control
People are born
People age
And people die.
And yeah
It’s sad
You’ll mourn
You’ll cry
You’ll weep
Tears of joy
At the life
they had
and no longer
My advice?
Cry tears of sadness
of joy
of pain
of courage
it doesn’t matter
but cry
Because when you cry
Your tears leech from
other emotions
tears of sadness
leech from joy
joy from pain
pain from courage
It brings up
other emotions
Painful emotions
We wish we didn’t have.
So yeah
Death is a thing
But when I die,
I’ll have lived
knowing that my life
was important
If not to anyone
but myself.
©2013 Alex Hicks

(09/02/2013) Ritual Prey duet with Hastywords

I’m posting tomorrow’s poem early, as today is my Fathers birthday, and tomorrow we’re celebrating so I probably won’t have a chance to write.
Another Duet with Hastywords. She is an amazing writer and poet so be sure to check out her blog and follow if you haven’t already!

The hunger comes after the craving
Bloodlust tempting, feels amazing
Cries of joy erupt from the pack
The time has come for the final feeding
     Crimson blood spilling forth
     The pain immense for all it’s worth
     The full moon above lights the ground
     The chill of death hangs all around
In a ritualistic dance we give in
To every desire built within
Insatiable growls heard all around
Drowning out their piercing fear
     We ran long, but they hunted longer
     Fearing their insatiable hunger
     Fearing the bloodlust, the howling pack
     Fearing our death, their bloody desire.
The chase could have been shorter
But as the screams rang into the night
Our passions increased, desire bursting
The most gruesomely delicious foreplay
     They could have had us any moment
     They were playing with our lives
     They know we couldn’t escape them
     It was only a matter of time.
Reaching the end of all restraint
We pounced upon their frailty
We took from them our sustenance
Leaving only scrapes for the earth to consume
     They were on us in an instant
     As muscle was torn from bone
     The last thing I remember
     Was thinking “Finally, I’m home.”
©2013 Alex Hicks and Hastywords

(06/02/2013) Black Rose

Part 3 of 3

Black Rose
Darkness comes in many forms
The most
Of which
Is the black rose.
What I carry with me when I go
Is a rose as black
As the dark itself.
It’s thorns dig deeper
Its petals bring pain.
It is the evil angel.
The guardian.
Who blocks my vision,
And guides my steps
No matter where they may lead.
Because to watch a black rose bloom
Is surely to court death.
It is the looming despair
That haunts me every day
I carry the rose
Into that good night
As the black rose guides me
into a field of thousands
©2013 Alex Hicks

(28/01/2013) The Thing About Death

There’s something about death
That strikes us down with fear
But at the same time
Intregues us greatly
There is this sense
Or desire
To learn what we don’t know
And when we can’t learn
We start lying
We start telling stories
To make us comfortable
In our lack
Of difinitive knowledge
We fear
That which we don’t understand
The unknown.
So we lie.
That’s the thing about the dead
They have nothing to fear
So if you were to ask them a question
They would have no reason to tell the truth.
So if we could ask the dead
What happens when we die
We would
And the entire world would change
But we can’t
Because the dead can’t speak
And if they could
All you would hear is lies
©2013 Alex Hicks