I don't write many suicide poems,
in fact I haven't thought about it in a long time.
Started thinking about it recently.
It's amazing I can put my death into rhyme.
I hold this gun to the side of my head,
in a few short moments I'll wind up dead.
Teeth shattering, brain splattering red.
Blood dripping down from my ears, nose and lips,
I collapse from my torso, collapse from my hips,
collapse from my feet, down to the street,
reciting my own death, and I still keep a beat.
People thinking I'm saying this just to get a rise,
not releasing their cares to see the fear in my eyes.
People always said I'd never amount to nothin',
well, I'm here today to show them all somethin',
that I'm not gloom and glum, stupid dumb, lazy bum,
always writing stories but never makin' some.
Well I've made one tonight, you goddamn right,
I've fought for so long I can no longer fight.
It seems like ending it is the only way out.
I've been ignored for too long, when I scream and I shout.
Think I'm just craving attention, when you all see me poutin',
think my eyes just water when I cry like a fountain.
If I wanna be left alone I go to the top of a mountain,
but I need someone to understand, so that's why I keep shoutin'.
Would anyone care if I died today,
would anyone come to my funeral, sit down and pray,
would anyone worry if I was gone,
would anyone's life be affected if I didn't belong.
Well, I gotta go now, but it's been one hell of a ride,
and this is my death poem about suicide.

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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