I Wish I Was Special [A poem about suicide – trigger warning]. (Reblog)

So many beautiful people are struggling right now. This poem is a reminder of what we all need to know.

Pooky's Poems

I wish I was special,
She cried
As she caught sight of her reflection.
Tears streaked her face.

She clung onto her palm full of pills
As if for dear life,
Though it was death,
Not life,
She hoped they’d bring.
She did not want to die
But she could not face this life any more.

She had sat this way for hours,
On the brink of the action
Which would take away the pain,
But without the motivation to do it.
Which made her feel
Ever more a failure.

A voice penetrated her bubble,
A hand gently took hers,
Brushing the damp, crumbled pills away,
And soothing her with tiny movements.
You are special.
Said the voice,
You just can’t see it now.
You won’t see it tomorrow,
Or the next day,
But one day you will.
I’ll teach you,
If you’ll let me try.

The world…

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Piercing Words.

I thought tiredness would bring me sleep.
Instead it has brought words to mind.
I have written,
and still the words come.
Pushing through my consciousness,
looking for release.
Desperation drives them.
“Don’t forget us.”
“Don’t suppress us.”

(12 October 2014)

Unsettling Thoughts Once Again.

There’s a desperation bubbling below the surface
And generally I keep it in check
But I wonder/worry what (little) it might take for that more extreme side of me to come out
And what the result may be

I know that I won’t do anything stupid
But it’s the meticulous and carefully consider plans
Of an unbalanced mind
That concern me


In and out of sleep
Not quite conscious or awake
In my dreams
I scream
and weep out loud
unable to cope
with the confines imposed
by this weak body
desperate to be free
tired of falling down
down, down,
Wanting to fly
return to those dreams
of floating
of soaring through the air
induced by willpower alone
at the peak of a parabola
Always drawn back down
Gravity thrill
fearing the impact
but bouncing back up
onwards into the air again
Surveying my world
from the clouds

Opening eyes
bring confusion
last thoughts were gloomy
the waking body
achy and uncomfortable
Will today be
shackles of despair
or freedom?