Suicide Poems | Examples of Suicide Poetry

There is a silence before the fall— not the absence of sound, but the heaviness of it, thick as fog, as thick as the space between heartbeats, when every thought crowds the same narrow room. The choice has settled like a stone in the chest, a weight pressing down harder than the world itself— and yet, beneath that pressure, there is...

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It's three o'clock in the morning, and I'm sitting here on the bathroom floor, reliving that day—reliving your death. If only crying could ease the pain... Maybe I would be able to live my life again. Instead, I close my eyes and hear my voice blubbering to 911. Dad is at work, so I know...

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I want to die— not in screams, not in blood, but in a quiet room where no one waits for me. I think of suicide like a lullaby I hum alone, a final note to silence the noise in my head that never rests. But I'm scared. I'm afraid of the rope, afraid of the pills, afraid of the fall— not just the pain, but the fact that I...

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You didn't love me. Not even a little. Not in the quiet way I needed— not in the way that could’ve saved me. So I carved it into skin because I needed someone to see something real. And pain? Pain shows up. Pain answers. Lines on my arms like tally marks— not counting days, but the moments I survived wanting to disappear. The blade was a lover that never...

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She's lived a lot of "almosts" She almost drowned under the pulsing weight of the river's temperamental waters when she was 12 Later on, she felt time itself suspend as she spent her last few seconds wondering if death would take her quickly, while her car spiraled down the I-50, barreling off the ice-ridden road at a deadly...

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Go! New York Herald Tribune! Yell it, Jean! I think that Marcel Proust once owned that condo. Belmondo never acts – he’s just Belmondo. You’re no Liz Taylor – no Egyptian queen – So, New York Herald Tribune! Your big scene! Were you too young to play the chick in “Hondo”? This is the age of “Cuando, Cuando, Cuando” – No singer,...

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My best friend saw me born. Coronation of blood, Tearing through his long beloved. Floppy neck and flailing limbs, Protesting my own birth. Constricting cord, A life noose, murderous Cut from me free, my airways clean. Chest to dead-weight chest, He forgave my assault, That which he had sown. Plasma glow to glass-blind eyes, Milk not frothed, elixir to survive, Feed the baby lump with plastic...

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Hey, It’s me, I've been thinking a lot lately, Do you ever wonder, Why do we want to know when, When we could just let go and forget, Did you ever care, Or do you even know what game you played, But you shut me out, Do I mean something to you, Or was I just a stone to step on to cross the river, So...

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My grief riddled mind is racing my heart is beating fast and my breaths are shallow as I wake up from a troubled dream And I remember that my son is gone I can't even remember exactly what was troubling about the dream, but reality hits the moment that I fully wake up My son is gone I suspect this will happen daily until it really...

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i draw the pain upon my skin, each cut a silent scream unheard, a bleeding map of battles fought inside the dark corners of my mind. the blood flows - red truths i cant say, whispers of a heart breaking quietly, fragile threads pulled tight, unraveling - until all thats left is the weight of wanting to end. i stand on the edge...

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My heart was shattered last Wednesday It has been a week How DARE time march on without my sweet boy? I still occasionally forget to breath and feel like I am underwater until my body automatically grabs a huge cleansing breath I am totally lost at times, I foget to eat, I forget to grab the medication I picked up and paid for, yet left at...

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In my heart broken fog of grief, I realize that I am not alone I have family, friends, God, my husband, and so many prayers to sustain me but it feels like the air is heavy, the tasks ahead of me are impossible and I am alone in the world BUT, I am not and I will put one foot in front...

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ms. deborah digges ms. deborah digges died today plunged to the earth and they found her that way she took her complex thoughts of simplicity and buried them in the soil of the university i suppose like most who take their own lives we will never know the real cause of her death but when one leaps from a building so high it...

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sylvia ***this concerns several books I once owned. Some were written by Rod McKuen, others by Richard Brautigan, others by others…*** i discovered that words are like some decadent dessert too small to cause harm but too big to have a second helping in the margins of tattered books were scribbled lines i hoped to someday share with someone who still had...

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The world got caught under her breath They could never hear her precious mumbling, only realized when she left One second she was there One second she was floating in timeless air In a wisp of whimsical space She would show her elegant face A polaroid of a perfect smile Commanding regretful tears and remembrance of all the distant years Her blood was...

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