I want to talk about suicide
and how it’s become far too common.
How no one will ever understand
the sadness and breaking hearts
because no one tries.

I want to talk about Nicky,
his smile that resembled a sunrise.
How he never showed the hurt
that he clearly felt.
His memory,
not his coffin covered with dirt.

The gun that slowly rose
to his temple.
I want to talk about the BOOM that echoed
through the house
And not only shattered his skull,
but our hearts too.

I want to talk about those silent cries
the ones that beg you to understand,
the tears that you can’t always see,
but fall in hopes you will be the one,
the one to save them.

About escapes,
the ones that truly set you free
from the bruises you’ve acquired over the years
and the words that you’ve absorbed under the skin.

I want to talk about fears,
the ones that haunt the few dreams you have anymore
the kinds that keep you lying awake at night,
and wanting to
die.

I want to talk about pieces
the little bits of ruptured self
that you try to tuck away
on the back of the shelf,
try to cut away
on the tips of those razor blades.
The pieces that no longer fit together
to make a whole,
to make you.

I want to talk about the victims,
not the ones that have spread their wings
and earned their halos,
but the ones that are left behind.
The ones that lost a little piece of themselves
when the others decided to fly.
The ones that didn’t want you to die.

I wanna talk about ignorance.
The fact that no one wants to realize
they could have committed this dreadful act
Of pushing someone to the brink of insanity,
the shaky ledge of their chair,
the ice cold barrel of that gun.

And I want to talk about change,
how everybody wants it, but no one is willing
to start it,
a chain reaction that could
stop all of this from happening.

I want to confess my feelings and be saved.
I want to talk about that change.
I want to be that chain reaction.
So sit down,
And let’s talk.