Nobody wants to hear a Suicide poem
Until you watch a mother kneel over her child lost too young,
Or a police escort that’s grown too silent
We wait until it hits us before we do something about it.

You see, if I had successfully committed suicide,
My parents might have started a fund in my honor,
So no parent would have to feel the pain they did.
They would have said they wished they had seen the signs,
Wished they could have stopped me.

The first time I admitted to feeling suicidal.
I was sent straight to a psychiatric hospital.
I spent eleven days in Inpatient.
All I learned was to have a stress ball on hand,
Talk to an adult,
life gets better.

The second time I admitted to feeling suicidal.
My mother told me that going to a hospital was a waste of time,
That it obviously didn’t work the first time.
But I could feel myself inching off the rooftop,
Suicidal thoughts manifesting a silver pistol raised to my forehead.
Hoped that maybe this hospitalization around, things would be different.
Life gets better

I was just the boy who cried wolf
The girl who cried suicide,
You see all I’ve been told is Life gets better,
I’ve been waiting, for a miracle.

In March 2014, i finally did it.
I stopped crying suicide.
Let the wolf in
I Downed pills like a homeless man’s first Thanksgiving.
Sending my 15 year old body into a near fatal coma.

My mother doesn’t talk about the ambulance ride as she passes the salt at dinner
My father doesn’t describe IVS and tubes lacing my body as we kayak along the Merrimack

But if it had been successful,
They would have never stopped talking about it,
Everyone who treated me like dirt, would be the ones brushing dirt off my grave stone,
Donating to my memorial page.
Praying for me,
Their lives revolving around suicide awareness.

No one wants to hear a suicide poem until they watch the grass grow around your grave
And realize that’s the only trace left of you.

No one wants to hear a suicide poem if you’re not dead,
Because it’s too real,
All too Wolf and not enough crying.

No one wants to hear a suicide poem,
You block out the words and get up for a bathroom break,
Because no one wants to acknowledge this tragedy before it’s too late.

How close do I have to be to death before someone hears me.
They are afraid to stare into the eyes of a survivor.

If you’re still in the room to hear my story,
I’ll tell you about the last thoughts and moments,
The days before,
Where you give extra long hugs and say I love you just a little more..
Sitting alone in a room,
The haunting thought of who will find you.
Will life get better for them?
Begging for a better world beyond this one.

Mom, There aren’t enough words to apologize to the first face I saw on this earth.
Dad, There aren’t enough words to apologize to the man who thought he could protect me from the wolves,from everything

Writing a thousand letters crumbled up and tossed in the trash,
Trying to find the words to say or maybe leave nothing,
Because sometimes saying nothing is better than not saying enough.

Stop telling me life gets better,
To stay strong,
To keep on swimming,
It’s all I’ve ever been told.