A Suicider’s Plight



The night was fresh,

with sparks of gray.

Life seemed impossible,

yet it seemed worth it;

worthy enough, to give it a try.

There was a turmoil,

a tornado grew wild.

Not on the outskirts of the city,

but somewhere deep inside.

I did shout out for help.

I did my best, not to sink.

I looked for a little wood,

while my soul was drowning.

I asked for help,

but they overlooked.

I asked for help,

but they were booked.

They put me away,

 thinking it is just a phase.

They thought it is just dismay.

The night kept crawling,

into my skin.

I saw the darkness creeping.

I was breathless and pale;

but, with hope to live.

I cried out with pain;

but,  it was in vain.

I didn’t die of the corporeal pain,

the pain of loneliness grabbed me.

I died, losing trust in solitary,

lost faith in humanity.

Now, that I don’t exist,

I hear people say;

she shouldn’t have done it,

she should have stayed’.

They now say,

if I had only asked for help,

if only I waited and then;

I would have been still alive,

Living a better life.

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