if today is the last day you plan on breathing if this burden is weighing on you if the over dead weight of the world is heavy on your shoulders the only place you can seek to lay down this burden is a grave
if your tried of same old game,if your so tried of existence that you want to put yourself away I couldn’t make this life single more than love a
day but before you let go may I ask you one thing? when you pick up the pen to write a suicide note
write a poem about all the things you love and all the things that loves you
write a poem turn the pain into a prose and make the melody flow and you shall see how quickly the ending becomes a new beginning write a poem like your life is meant to be here because it really does I do too have no nights where on bathroom floors of drops of blood and tears spilling so quickly
no praying to God I stopped believing in myself a long time ago that if this pain were real they would not break down break through walls and most importantly keeping me alive through it all if the words of your demons can end your life than words of wisdom and freeness can save it
no matter how deep of a hole you put yourself into even when your told your life is not worth it ,it feels like grasping for air even your lungs can’t even keep this pain inside of it put your hand out for a lifeline!! and I promise to give you a pen and tell you that poetry is a pathway to survival
I can be a testament to that because I am still standing after depression and anxiety has brought me to my knees after I have told myself just end the life and let it leave I thanked myself that I got up off my knees and found something to make me breathe and that is a blessing to survive
even if your own body tried to kill you to hold self- healing in your arms and say it well and it gets really hard because I can’t remember how to be human again much less a poet but being a poet isn’t always about the beautiful prose some days it’s about being here alive with family and friends hell its about being alive here in this place where I’ve seen so many resurrected
I call it holy I call it magic I call freedom I call it a fight I call it THAT You Can Put This monster to rest that’s eating you inside so let me spell the juice of survival put down that knife don’t spill blood spill ink write a poem drafting across your wrists and thighs and show everyone your scars and your story
you can tell them that this is survival this is hope this is the power to let go and to never forget how hard it was to get where you are to turn your back on your demons but if the pen is touchable than the sword than it is fightable for a any mental illness that has tried to kill you
so today don’t write me a suicide note put a period where there could be a comma write me a true survivor story I promise you’ll be here tomorrow
~A.L~
