My Suicide Note
You know i never thought i would be alive long enough to write this poem.
Witnessing God in my dreams, talking to me
I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep.
As sad as that sounds.
It was almost like a reverse nightmare,
usually when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved.
I woke up into a nightmare.
I woke up to the sounds of my knuckles knocking on the devils gate.
I am not his advocate..
God forgive me for my sins.
My angel wings have been burned off my aching skeleton
The pain i feel is more traumatizing and genuine as if i was a war veteran
sleep is the cousin of death and suicide is its closest relative
This cold barrel to my dome, never made me afraid but for some reason i feel like I’m going home.
God, I’m coming home
They say every second, minute, and hour of the day you write your future, your story.
There were many times i wished i could tear out some of the pages, but instead i always feel like burning the entire book.
its all bad!
The entire world is against me.
Can someone. .
Tell my mother that she is the kindest angel i have ever known
and my father, thank you for teaching me how to be a man.
Tell them I’m sorry that this life lesson doesn’t feel like a blessing but instead like a curse.
Tell the reporters that i was never into drugs or a criminal
just make sure they don’t sell me to the world as a bad person.
I raise home to my head and put it next to my temple
and i reflect . . . .
The easiest thing in life is to quit. The hardest thing in life is to live.
Just to know that all my pain, all my hurt can end with a pull of a trigger. .
I want my death to be beautiful, i want my death to be meaningful. would it be considered beautiful if i scattered my brains on this windshield as my old thoughts create a Picasso.
I don’t want to be the man that nobody knows until he commits suicide, and then everyone had a class with him.
Sometimes home isn’t the answer, sometimes running away isn’t the right thing to do.
I want to be known as the one who stared down the barrel of a gun and found enough beauty to look away.
and live. . .
