obscurity bears
the songless soloist air
gifts breathless freedom
indulging in its forlorn
state, parts for a piece of earth
Swadling encrypt the contrarious slopes of a mired
entity coursed veinous stammer spurts bled
across a court of an unchallenged befitted named
as valor cornered the bleached to be razed
spirits encapsulate the branded sole championed
glory dazed betwixt ears of an abandoned
waning light fills purple sighs 'ill eve succumbed
bitterness spilt the downtrodden weighed
hung kicked a life out of bound the final scored
The points made above with info
Show how our accounting rules blow
Though billionaires laugh
They should with their staff
Read this eco manifesto
Modernland has legalized murder, they roll these streets
Billyclubs in tow, those weak are taped and tortured
Throw'em a gun and a bullet grinning through glass
As those who suffer pull the trigger, bang
Darkness isn't evil, the real monsters are people
Art is rebellion, they want Armageddon, life isn't Christmas
They decide who gets presents, I'm number one
On the naughty list, then, some call it divine intervention
Others say entertainment, I say sacrilege to the manes
Breathing should be easy
Yet somehow it's the most difficult action
We shouldn't have to remind ourselves
Yet here we are
But what is the point when the world has its knees on our neck
Why fight a battle that strips us of our weapons
The expectations to submit
To actions unfit to complete
When either way our existence gets us killed
Scolded when we plead -
For human rights and equality
Peace was never an option
When survival is to watch us bleed
It's a familiar type of exhaustion
One my people know all to well
Where - we breathe and we die
Or we speak up and it's systemic suicide
Tensions suffocate the air
All we want from life is to be treated fair
Yet, atlas life is a never ending cycle -
For us, filled with chronic despair
It's hard to breathe when silence is the only option
When the words are there, but in the end we end up choking
It's always been this way, of cyclical hope then watch it slowly dissipate
Knowing we can't trust it, yet it clings to us for survival
One day maybe it'll be different story
Though let's not hold our breath
We still need it for our survival, Rome wasn't built in a day, we have to be realistic
Please don't send me home
It's scarier out there
The world is just too loud
It's too much for me to bear
Please don't send me back
Where everyone is mad
Where no-one understands
And tells me that I'm bad
Please don't make me go
Where I am all alone
I'm begging for you all
Please don't send me home
I promise I'll be good
If you let me stay
I'll fall in line and smile
Every single day
Please don't send me home
I think I'd rather fry
I don't think I'll survive
Don't send me there to die.
Lyrics By Michael McCoy
Written for the Rolling Stones Contest
as i write this
i have two bottles on the bed next to me
filled with tiny hard capsules
they're staring at me
calling me
i've tried to resist their voices
but with each day they grow louder
i already tried two months ago
i've been trying to silence them ever since
it's hard to silence them
when it's the only comfort you get
the comfort of knowing that option is there
there is a way for the pain to stop
the suffering
i have letters written from months ago
i feel like i should've written more
but it's not like i can get backlash
if they actually read them, there's no way to contact me
not anymore
i fear it won't work
just like it hasn't the last time
or the time before
and the time before that
and then it's just another thing to keep to myself
sometimes i wish somebody knew
but then they'd treat me different
or maybe they wouldn't
i don't know which one is worse
i'm stalling now
hoping maybe someone would text
i want to be gone but
i'd stay if you wanted me to
but you don't
so i've taken them now
it feels freeing in a way
to know the end is so near
i'm not even crying, just numb
i may do a few things
one last time
hopefully
The morning after I tried to die was just like any other. My Grandmother called me from the kitchen, alarming me that I had slept-in too late. My face was puffy in my eyes, cheeks and lips. My body was fatter and more stocky. My color was all-well returned back to my head, with my nose a bright red. I had taken most of the pills in my prescription bottle, surprisingly nobody noticed the amount of them that were missing. Even though I was breathing, I have been dead for months.
The morning after I told her I was better off nowhere, in the thirty degrees heat, I left. I figured it made no matter where I found myself in the world anyways, for I was just a problem made of atoms.
The morning after he told me he loved me I took his blindness and handed it to Jesus, Jesus healed him like he did the others, and suddenly he was just a boy who had said three words he’d never mean.
The morning after the dog left, I saw his footprints embedded in the living room carpet like cement. I saw him moaning and crying at the door like the ghost he was, begging to come back.
The morning after I woke up, I wish I had not. But that's just life.
There are things in this life
Weighing me down it's true
There's anxiety and depression
Are some hell l go through
The part of life called living
This is the burden I bare
It would be different for me
Maybe if anyone would care
People who are close to me
Have left me to be alone
They don't like what they hear
My actions they don't condone
I've been pleading out for help
And there's no one that's near
The time is now for this to end
Death i will no longer fear
I never really noticed your blue;
hidden under transparent shields
screaming to be noticed... or something.
Just came across as angry or sad,
wanting to forget some bad...
but not blue, never that.
Not the kind to bind a knot;
throw their lot in with chance's whim
to test if fate says sink or swim
and lose...
4:09:05
A familiar time which plays on repeat in my mind
Get the opposite of high, but I don’t know why
Cutting pounds but not just my weight
I’m not trying to over-exaggerate
But I think it’s time to say goodbye.
Being alone isn’t the same as feeling it
I just wanna stop, I just wanna quit
They say all it takes is just a call
Down the rabbit hole you fall
Running down an empty hall
I cant seem to recall
If it’s really worth it all
Looking out the window, all
I hear is a loud rainfall
Beats me staring at a wall
Or downing pints of alcohol
Not afraid for if i fall
The flowers I’ll receive by haul
I’ll feel better overall
4:09:05 is my call
I butter the toast as if it were a pardon,
its crust breaking under my knife
like a sealed envelope.
The coffee is bitter ink,
a confession cooling in its cup.
I swallow it fast,
as if speed could trick the executioner.
When I buy myself flowers
I imagine them lining a witness box:
petals trembling,
each one swearing I once existed.
I take long baths,
the water climbing like hours,
the body softening, rehearsing its exit.
Every errand feels ceremonial:
the grocer weighing apples,
the cashier stamping receipts—
as if recording my presence
before the page turns blank.
I buy the trinket, the sugared cake,
because why shouldn’t the condemned
glitter a little,
lick the spoon clean?
The hours leer,
their faces blindfolded.
Any minute the rope could tighten—
a phone could ring with pardon.
So I go on feeding myself,
scraping honey from the jar,
gilding my throat
for the last song or the first acquittal,
as though I might vanish mid-bite,
or else be called back,
my name suddenly rinsed clean
from the record.
My world shattered in May when my youngest son
took his own life after a long struggle with mental illness
I tried to help him so many times, but it seemed,
the more I tried, the more he pulled away
I had to come to the conclusion that it was not my struggle
and live my own life, while letting him know that I was there
to help when needed, I had to keep going forward in my
own life and find a purpose for myself while he lived his
When my world shattered, I gathered as many pieces as I could
and started to rebuild my world, and I noticed there were some
parts that would not fit in my new life and that's okay,
I just needed to keep moving forward and recognize that I am different
It is so hard at times to realize that I am leaving the life with my son
in it behind, but I will never forget him and will love him with a mama's
unconditional love forever, and I do look forward to the day that
I will see him again, whole, healed, and in a good place
sometimes i fantasize about
driving on the highway
going eighty
and swerving into oncoming traffic
will that make the hurting stop?
walking somewhere
alone in the dark
and getting cornered by a murderer
will that make the hurting stop?
being home alone
door bursts open
an intruder with a gun pointed right at me
aimed right at my head
will that make the hurting stop?
the medicine cabinet torn apart
four pill bottles scattered around me
all once full
now empty
will that make the hurting stop?
a blade in my hand, pressed to my wrist
finally brave enough
to go deeper than just the surface
will that make the hurting stop?
going to bed one night
head laid on my tear-stained pillow
and never waking up again
will that make the hurting stop?
will the hurting ever stop?
or am i destined to live like this forever?
i'm not even living anymore
i'm just surviving
barely surviving
against my own will
Specific Types of Suicide Poems
Definition | What is Suicide in Poetry?