depression

December 4, 2009
By Anonymous

She grips the bright pills in her shaky hands

what’s it like to die?
She gives it a quick satisfying jingle


will I be missed?
She cracks open the lid, and pours her life onto her hands


will I go to heaven or hell?
She fills her mouth…and swallows


am I really doing this?
She’s fading
Falling

slowly



through





space
She’s halfway between life and death


Silence cuts the sound of her heart beat


The author's comments:
I recently took a picture of some bright pills which inspired me to write a poem about someone taking them.

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