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Metaphor Suicide Poems | Metaphor Poems About Suicide

These Metaphor Suicide poems are examples of Metaphor poems about Suicide. These are the best examples of Metaphor Suicide poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Lyric |


Let the Deicide commence.

You're a voyeur at best!
Your vampiric heart is beating out of your chest!
And you have slayed the ones whom would love you for anything less
Ready to consume the final fragments of innocence,
And for you there is no forgiveness,
On your knees pleading, screaming to a tyrant in the skies;
The father of lies.

I will never be enslaved in your superiority
The people agree: jaded of your false dichotomies.
Know: I will be whomever nature intends to be
Apollo and I will share our dreams,
and you will be forced to see
your failure!

I know who you are...
Readily the first to present your scars
Chained by some despot or mental czar
An emotional homunculus in your mind, behind bars
Reluctant to escape - even when proven fake
Your demented mind - depths no one will penetrate!
...And you see me suffering
Not caring of any casualties
Just as long you recieve your safeguard of sympathy
So very wary of the masses and their Anarchy; Liberious ways

Solipsist - Is there no one you can see?
Even if she was presented burning?
Solipsist - Is there no one you can believe?
Even if Sophia was screaming?
Solipsist - Know you have killed and abused me
Imprisoned in your own  personal reality 

Copyright © Wyatt Loethen | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Invincible SuperHero

It's splash across the canvas of print
It's blare across the airways

Another Super Hero has fallen.

On the stage of life,they appear bullet proof
but out of the bright lights,in the shadows
every Super Hero has his Kryptonite

In the bright lights
a Super Hero's powers are his wealth and fame
in the shadows super powers can be weakened
by thieves,moths,rust

Don't Gear when a Super Hero has fallen
less it becomes your  Kryptonite
and you trip over your own cape.

The strength of a Super Hero's custom is not in silver or gold
but in the strength of a good name.

There is only one invincible Super Hero
He conquered death at the cross
To rescue Humanity from the hands of a villain

The name of this Super Hero is Jesus The Christ

Written By Stephen J. Vattimo
 July 6 2014

Copyright © Stephen J. Vattimo | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

the Rose

                 The Rose innocent white, soft pink, yellows 
                colors touch your soul vibrant red to amethyst

                enhances beauty yet a thorn awaits to break skin
                as life does piercing your heart with a thin pin.

                My life has shed drops of blood through each petal
                 as if in return for the love and beauty you feel

                hence pain underneath patiently waits the bloodletting ~

                The rose symbolizes love yet vulnerable to hold
                for when you open your heart it can be left bleeding

                The best of surgeons can not beat your heart
                It is the inner faith and God himself whom gives strength 

                whispers in your ear you shall live you will exist
                your life meaningful as the water and sun to the rose

                 For I am your God  your existence is not over yet .
                        You must Live ~You must Bloom 

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

A Written Suicide

I am a writer. The odds are in your favor that I bet you may be a writer as well. It isn't that extremely bold of claim. I type. I text. I make words. Words make me. Make up my inner most amazing molded version of myself.  
I write with conviction. Words are the convict. Perpetrated as is, words are like magic. Illusive words are. Words are illusions. Illusions may be a little on the wordy side. I stand side by words. Words stand as is, by me. That is super simple for possessive intent by a random you. I stand by my self claim of written evidence of many wordy phrases.  
I would, personally, in a social setting, find it nearly impossible to self compose a suicide… 
Why do I need to limit easy answers? 
That is just my style. Likewise I withhold little to every(none-thing). 
If I made it cut and dry then why would I waste our time in its composure.  
I'm busy so a summary will conclude. 
I write as personal therapeutic release.  
In the act of writing a suicide letter. I would write myself right out of that idea.  
I would just pull the trigger and leave a photo bomb of some (none-thing)  
Suicide all letters are not 26 and z.  
They are forever 27 and lmnop.  
Picture me writing.  
In the act of writing a suicide letter

Copyright © Ir0nic ZiNk | Year Posted 2016

Details | Verse |


A white ceiling, 
a dull life.
A wife?
No, just a knife -
that's all I need.

Copyright © A.O. Taner | Year Posted 2016

Details | Imagism |

The Soldier

There once was a soldier,
So loyal, so brave.
He fought a long struggle,
‘til the end, ‘til the grave.

The struggle went on,
For days, for years.
No end in sight,
No break, just tears.

He fought alone,
Nobody would help.
No one would listen,
To his struggling yelp.

He fought on and on,
No food, no sleep.
Nobody had noticed,
Not a bit, not a peep.

But his loving dog did,
She helped, she cared.
But when her time came,
He fell, despaired.

The fight got harder,
The nights, longer.
He thought he’d survive,
He thought he’d get stronger.

Then after 4 years,
Of crying, of weeping.
A rooster had stopped him,
From dying, from seeping.

But after a year,
His new found-friend died.
He had to wonder,
And then he just sighed.

Was this life worth living?
Alone, afraid.
Where his best friends die,
And he’s left to fade.

There once was a soldier,
So alone, so distraught.
Who took his own life,
Suicidal, overwrought.

This man fought no war,
Not out of his head.
He fought mental challenges,
That left him up dead.

Copyright © Adam Forth | Year Posted 2017

Details | Dramatic monologue |

The Damned

Her devilish eyes beat at me 
taking flesh with every blow,her 
rendered heart beat sounds like 
tribal drum rolls an her skin 
drips venom from its pores , I 
find myself helpless and 
paralyzed , everything else 
seems trivial and meaningless 
to this moment,..she exhales 
smoke and lightning flows from 
her finger tips ,she is the 
antichrist the source of my 
device, but I can't help but give 
her my heart,I question my gift 
but remain entranced caught in 
her red moonlit ritual 
dance,sight of her is blinding , 
she is what Every man  desires 
but can't reach, it feels like 
heaven but I sweat from the 
heat,the pain she inflicts is 
bitter sweet an burns like salt 
in a wound ,she is gods most 
regretted creation born for the 
night with a hunger that cannot 
be fed,hold her down chain her 
up she cannot be contained , 
pentagrams burn white in her 
eyes,she's a shape shifting 
voodoo angel that sleeps with 
vipers ,yet I seek her and 
desire her with every thread of 
my existence and have turned 
into an insomniac who day 
dreams of her , cut by the 
thorns of the rose she wears in 
her hair , always the day of the 
dead and raining razorblades, 
the tree limbs reach out for my 
embrace but every one of them 
are shadowed with her face,I 
close my eyes I can always find 
her there , lay with her in the 
ground every breath she takes 
is sin ,she's a black rosé that 
cannot be changed a black rosé 
that cannot be contained , 
ashes to ashes dust to dust I 
cut my heart to be with her and 
bleed undying trust,it's only 
her....everything else I feel is 
not real .....

Copyright © Justin Montgomery | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |


When they found you it was too late
Standing there they saw a twist of fate
The days to follow so somber
Gave everyone something to ponder

Your pain was too much to bear
Thinking life was so unfair
A loving soul crushed so young
The hearts of your family forever stung

A baby now without a father
Her life a story with only one author

Copyright © Katie Racette | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

The Man With No Face

Hark!  It is he!
A slate face; devoid!
Mechanical, computing, sleepless.

No! Just human!
Turning, just turning!
He will not fall, now expressionless.

The dark gazeth!
Yet, he wont gaze back!
Four days, sleepless, faceless, for all!

His face is stone.
No care, there's no care!
Persist amidst all of the loss.

It is but he!
No! Tireless;
designed to be.
It is but he!

Shrug the abyss,
he will nev'r fail;
a perfection, 
designed to be. 
Shrug the abyss.

Through it all,
he leaveth none for all!
To see the end of it all,
the completion of it all!
None but all.

Four days sleepless,
it is none but he!
Faceless, breathless, mechanized.

Look! See him now!
With bags under eyes.
See him now, the man with no face.

It is he,
Be it so! Be it so!
To see the end of it;
the destruction of it all!
It is he.

Copyright © Adam Lefaivre | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |


I never planned on letting you back into my life
but last night 
after I drank enough black label
to float my scars
and let my eyes swim
back into delusion
you kicked in the door to my apartment
with your new boyfriend
that tweaker you shacked up with 
when I left you
I don't know what you two were looking for
but you found me with my roommate 
playing Russian roulette with a saw
with a diamond tipped chain
and just enough gas to crank 
He was about to put it to my neck
and pull the chord when the door
flew off the hinges
I heard you scream
and I smiled
Thankful that I could
scare someone else
as much as I scare 
-James Kelley 2015, All rights reserved.

Copyright © James Kelley | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? |

For Primo Levi

For Primo Levi

it darkened more
as light shone through
and the haunting past stabbed

you felt
silently the blind were led
'thieves' you called them
emerging from nowhere
yet everywhere
'thieves' you called them
no one
yet everyone
you felt

you left

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

The Torment Of Her Affliction

Alone.... in a small boat... on a vast ocean            
With her one hand, she holds the rope to a kite      
The other, she holds the chain to an anchor     
Desperately she has a tight grip on both          
Trying to keep the kite from pulling her up
way up, too high up beyond reality    
and the anchor from pulling her down, way down  
way down deep, to the bottom of the ocean		
A balancing act to keep herself afloat 		
Afloat... in a small boat...on a vast ocean 	

Copyright © JoanMarie Peranteau | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

Assuage Life

I'm the One to who you should pray;
I'm the Voice that shall never fade away,
I'm the Daemon that haunts your 3am sleep,
I'm the Whisper that eases your weep...

And in this novella, your lissome dreams,
I'm your nightmare; your midnight screams!
- I'm the Yeshua that can make pain fade,
I'm the abolition of the razorblade...

Clad in shadow I stalk your soul,
Invisible but yet in perfect control.
Thus let my voice be your destination
Away from a world with flawed harmonization.

So why cope with a life so bleak?
which has done nothing more but make you weak?
Take my hand and I'll assuage it,
Follow me down to Death's tethered pit...

Here we are, welcome to the Abyss,
Don't worry about people, you won't be amiss.
Give me a smile, a shotgun smile,
Don't worry about pain, atleast not for a while!

Aw, how your mind was delicately bent,
Like the Eye on the Earth's breast you'll descent,
Deep in it's crust, to Oblivion you fell;
A warm hearted welcome to Lucifer's Hell...

Copyright © Jimmy Brouwers | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

To Kill a Metaphor

Seaward cliff
Spilling bath
Tangled nooses
Off the path

On the tracks
Driving fast
Cutting clean
Erase the past

Arcing strife
Drowned in snow
Shooting through
Poisoned woe

Dreamy pills
Shattered glass
At the peak
Of life’s impasse


Copyright © Kaelan Fox | Year Posted 2017

Details | I do not know? |


Trapped. No where to hide.You scream at me through the door.Though your words still 
sting me.
I sit on the ground alone.Blood drips down like tears. tears run down like rain.The room's 
spinning.  My heart bursts out of my clothes.We got into a fight.  Why is unclear.
I tried to leave.  You hit me. I fell.I started to cry.  You kicked me.A sharp pain burst out of 
my chest.  I could not breath. I have little energy,I kicked you.  You fell. I ran to our 
I am trapped.  No where to hide.I'm weak. I stumble to your Night stand.I see a gun.You 
break down the door.  I grab the gun.You start to choke me, squeezing my throat like you 
were trying to get some sort of juice out of me.
I pull the trigger.
BANG!Trapped.  No where to hide.Your grip feels looser.   Your face in pain.
You fall down. i fall into darkness.Free.  No need to hide.

Copyright © Chelsea Ouellette | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |

The hours of the night

The town clock marks out the hours of the night;
Its pallid face looking down on the wet street below,
Empty save for the occasional swish of a car speeding 
To a distant suburb. There is a brief glimpse of 
A grim portrait of urgency, or frozen duet of 
Snarling adversaries, or the happy laughing faces of
Lovers. Blank windowed shops cast pools of light on the 
Glistening tarmac in competition to the high yellow flare of 
Street lights. 

But it is darkness that forms the stage
On which I walk. Deep shadows swallow the light,
Denying it power, denying it purchase in this world.
The shops soon end and their reminder of the busyness
And bustle of the day gives way to solitude. 
My footsteps no longer echo between the shopfronts; 
Now they sound only in my own small world, the
Curtained windows of homes too far away to reflect
My steady steps.

Town left behind darkness shrouds me, each step 
Taking me further from the slow moving hands 
And sightless face. As I walk, measuredly, like the ticking hands,
I catch glimpses of life in the neat houses that line the 
Street. Here a teenage birthday, all frivolity and delight; 
There the staid conformity of middle age – television, a 
Cup of tea, an early night. And here, and there, 
The warmth of seduction in frozen glimpses of passion, or 
Passing of love, faint heard words of anger and rejection.

Ahead, darkness becomes absolute; no curtained windows to
Remind me of the rawness and tenderness of life, yin and
Yang. Only my steps, steady but resolute, their sound a
Cadence for my thoughts to follow in obedience. I think,
And therefore I am, except on this journey when thought
Leads only on into the darkness, and “I am” becomes
“I was” in my mind. The darkness ahead gently 
Engulfs my past, and proposes my future. And far behind, 
The hands of the clock mark out the hours of the night.

Copyright © Edward Clapham | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Icy Hearth

An ice cold firework
Discharges in my heart
Detonating out shards of ice
To pierce the mind
Pricking my fingers 
As the heat
Drains from me and
Like a welcoming fireplace
Warms the souls of the
Dead hearts I've dug up
From the graves of fireflies
That never saw it
Past summer

Copyright © Kay Ham | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Porcelain Doll

A porcelain doll placed high on a shelf
Left sitting alone to collect dust.
This fragile doll,
To easily broken
She sits high up on her perch
Longing for a caring touch. 
For someone to take a chance on her
To love her. 
Holding her close, 
Not afraid to break her. 
But no one will.
And the longer she sits lonely
The more fragile she becomes. 
Lonely, empty, desperate
She moves closer and closer to the edge.
Desperate for someone to notice her.
But no one sees this sad, beautiful doll.
Closer and closer to the edge
Until she falls off.
One final attempt to be seen
Caught falling.
But she's left to fall, all alone.
Crashing down shattering into pieces. 
And then they finally see her,
The sad, lonely, beautifully fragile doll
Finally noticed, after it is to late. 

Copyright © Brittney Tyler | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Waters of March

It's a hole in my heart, the shatter of glass
It's dark, it's the cold, it's the end of the class
The void in the stars, the crashing of cars
It's blood, it's night, it's the moon slaying stars

The tears of despair, like rain on the ice
An eruption of pain and the stabbing of lies
It's war, death, fear - it's the vacuum of hate
From a blizzard of stones to the desert of fate

It's the burning of dreams in a smiling black hole
It's the boot in my teeth and the knife through my soul
In a river of clouds, like blood in the rain
When the sword in your smile kills the hope of no pain


Copyright © Kaelan Fox | Year Posted 2017

Details | Dramatic monologue |

Pavement Pancake

Slowly We Are All Falling, 

Some Just Quicker Than Others, 

Some Will Have An Arm To Grab Before Hitting Bottom, 

Some Never Bothered To Pack A Parashute, 

And The Others Are Just Enjoying The Fresh Air On The Way Down, 

Awaiting To Become A Pavement Pancake

If we have a hand to hold us we may never had fallen

And if we had an ear lent someone would have heard cries for help

My parachute is broken, no ever listened, and the held let go of me

Before we, land the only thing left to think is, 

i wonder if anyone has any maple syrup

Copyright © Raven Tones | Year Posted 2017