by Shea Ryhai © 2009
Inspiration humbled takes a knee,
blinds are pulled to face the dark.
Fingers flex as a pen breaths free,
Salvation's in truth's unquenched spark.
Bitter memories burn behind eyes,
an aching that can never be filled.
More then willing to face and be despised,
sometimes taking risks give me a thrill.
Dear unknown with a cowering heart,
do you hear the demon's whispered lies?
Why end a life before you even start?
Suicide is simply failure in disguise.
I care enough to speak honestly,
it's not judging to say it's the wrong choice.
Despite what the emptiness is promising,
Dead can't confirm when they have no voice.
Play a gentle lullaby to loved ones gone,
wishing only they were at my side.
Hate me when I say suicide's wrong,
these words will never lose their pride.
Getting back up is a test of spirit,
learn to hear your heart, not your fears.
I write only pleading you will hear it,
depression makes you slowly disappear.
A cat doesn't swim but it fights anyway,
resisting death's call in waters deep.
You might feel dead now in a world of gray,
but your still alive if you can weep.
Scars or bruises we all equally suffer,
cuddling hope like a frail butterfly.
What's the point in arguing your pain is better?
It still ends in a choice to live or die.