THE CARNIVAL'S WIRE
She had fallen
She had tired
The haze and heat
Through hoops of fire
She held her breath
Her foot gave way
Feather by feather
She tumbled away
The crowd beneath
The high and narrow
The shouts, the cheers
A kissed thrown flower
One foot poise
Balance the other
She had fallen
The carnival's wire
Empty chair,
no student sitting in it.
The teacher was planning on changing seats on November 5th, but now that she’s gone she can’t stand not seeing her there.
A girl planned to die November 4th because it was the day of her absolute misery the year before.
and she was successful.
Which is what everyone told her she could never be.
The girl was struggling to keep up and was trying her hardest, but her hardest wasn’t enough.
The only thing she was good at was reminding herself of reasons to leave.
her teacher was one of them.
She loved her math teacher, she reminded her so much of teachers she’s had before, but that’s what killed her.
Knowing that her teacher would continue to change the seating chart.
Because she couldn’t stand to not see the board any more.
*continued from pt 2*
Our physical bodies are numb, and our souls, tormented. It’s why some of us hurt ourselves. We feel a lack of purpose, draining our desire to go on. With no purpose, no love, and nothing but brutal lapses in our thoughts and emotions, will we ever be able to break free?
We are the ones who wish to die and escape this world in hopes of finding a better life after death. Our only hope is put into things we cannot see or feel. And that lingering, underlying hope is what will either keep us alive to see another day, or it will be what sends us on. Peace is what we are in pursuit of. To bad we’ll never know when and how we might attain it until its already too late.
Please read parts 1 and 2 for a fuller picture on the state of mind of those who struggle with severe depression, mental illness, and suicidal ideation.
Thank you for reading.
Today it's been 16 months
16 months since I have seen your face
16 months since I felt your embrace
16 months since I heard your laugh
16 months since I knew you were in the world
even when I didn't see or hear from you
It's also been 16 months since I have seen
the pain in your eyes
FELT the pain of you words, go straight to my heart
Seen the effects of your illness on your whole being
Seen that you were a shadow of who you were before
mental illness took over your life
I MISS all of you, but I am not sorry you found peace
and I am trying to make you proud by screaming hard
and loud that Mental Health is crucial and our resources
are inadequate.
I love you, my son and I miss you!
I was tying my shoes
Wrapped with thoughts of death
Wondered if the stone beneath me
Would appreciate the human dire
Splashed over it like ketchup
And no, it wasn’t thoughts of suicide
For I know death is not really what I want
Maybe I do write letters sometimes
About my last day on this ground,
but they're just words caused by pain
And yet I can’t help but wonder
If murderers do feel fear when they kill
I wonder if the sin of lying is equal to killing
all these candles tell me to die,
but one is my wish to live
When a loved one commits suicide NO ONE wants to talk about it
Not about the person, the pain, the act,
they avoid it like the plague
Just because my son took his own life,
does not mean he was not a special person
HE was a kind, loving, giving human being
Just because he took his own life does not mean
he does not deserve to be remembered-
He does deserve for his name to be spoken
Just because he took his own life, does not
mean that I don't miss him with every fiber of
my being, I do and I wish it could have been different
Just because he took his own life, it does not mean
that I wish the situation were the same as when he was
alive, I do not, he was suffering from extreme illness and
I only want wholeness and peace for him, which I believe
he has achieved. But I will NOT avoid talking about suicide
and trying to DO SOMETHING about it, because it is a
painful terrible thing and it will not be stopped until
people talk about it and DO SOMETHING!
She lay still,
within the rot of her festering limerence,
bleeding on clovers in the field beneath.
The red of the clovers
begins to darken with the crimson blood
spilling from her wrists,
as she fixes her gaze upon the lonesome stars above.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God."
She repeats internally.
She seems to find peace
in a sense of nihility,
though she desires death before being.
It's almost as she yearns for the feeling
of fester and decay,
eager for the obscurity ahead.
And with her final breaths,
she casts a parting glance
upon the clovers strewn below,
in search for any sign of luck
among her inevitable solitude.
A four leaf clover lay
within her stilled grasp.
Yet still,
dawn knows no delay.
I felt murderous rage and suicidal impulses
and understood:
I’ll never be better!
I’ll just be able to pretend better.
My life will always be the second option.
I’ll never be satisfied
or happy
or at peace.
But I can find it,
make it.
I can look at the destination,
Not at the road.
And I can mold it,
Shape it.
And I felt comfort.
And for once,
I did not want to die,
just yet.
I wanted to die
with a purpose.
I always felt like I have no talent,
But what if this is my talent?
To know how to die.
I thought living was a time where I didn’t know when my last day was going to be.
only I do.
I spent my time trying to fit in boxes that I’m not square enough for.
I’ve tried to fit in spheres that I’m not quite round enough for.
I’ve tried to fit in jars and I’m not quite long enough for.
I’ve tried to fit in picture frames that are just too big for me.
I can’t fill any hole.
I can’t fill any empty space.
I can only make it worse.
I write down the thoughts I need to say.
I say them and they don’t come out quite right,
They never do.
They look me up and down and left and right and they don't choose me.
Not even me.
I think and write all of the reasons why,
But i never can
Maybe because I talk too much,
Or I talk about myself too much,
Or maybe I was cocky that one day, even though I didn't mean to.
I don't understand.
“I have friends,
But I want more.
Ones that are real.”
That didn't come out right.
It sounded right when I wrote it.
Maybe that’s the reason they look me up and down and left and right…
Because they’re trying to see into me,
And they did.
Little Big Dot
My eyes are tired
Bloodshot
My heart is tired
Little Big Dot
Yesterday was hard
Tempted to slice
But my cat...
I'm running out of spite
Little Big Dot
Picked up a pen
Read a novel again
I am trying
Little Big Dot
My eyes are tired
Bloodshot
My heart is tired
Little Big Dot
Yesterday was hard
Tempted to slice
But my cat...
I'm running out of spite
Little Big Dot
Picked up a pen
Read a novel again
I am trying
I have a memory, somewhere in my head.
It's cold, it's dark and I am all alone.
I look at the stars, see the bright one on the right,
The one we saw together before you made me sad.
I taste the salt of my tears, that are diluted by the rain,
Which way do I go, I just don't know as I wander up and down.
People pass, nudging and bumping, I'm invisible nobody see's me,
There's nothing in my head just darkness,, then a flashing light.
I spin, or do I? Is it the world or my mind turning around?
Then suddenly I see much clearer, I'm not stuck, I'm free.
I know just what to do, I've finally decided,
I don't spin, I stride, I know now just where I am going.
The black river rushes beneath the bridge, foaming in whirlpools going so fast,
I stand on the bridge, I look up at the moon, I jump I am floating down as the river covers me!!
I once heard a warning from a sailor:
"Don't look at the ocean at night—the darkness offers an escape."
I wonder if it is the same for a soldier staring down a gun barrel.
As they run through dark trenches, fleeing death,does that cold metal cylinder promise a release?
An end to fear.The death of anger.
Or a quiet peace brought to a desolate land.
Many wonder, staring straight into that deep ocean of unforgiving quiet.
But peace demands a price in an empty country.
It means
a mother you will never see,
a wife you will never love,
a child you will never guide—
only eyes wandering a horizon that never ends.
But the sailor never taught me what remains unseen:
the sea always stares back.
It cannot feel your agonizing rage.
It does not share your lonely sadness.
It has no thought of family or friends.
Instead, it only waits for you to jump, and find your peace.
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