An Endless Knife

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


I realize there are some dark themes raised in this poem but I wrote this when Robin Williams, one of my greatest role models, took his life. I too dealt with depression and wanted to try to
vocalize the struggle, not to justify suicide, but to shed some more understanding of why it can get so bad that suicide becomes the choice that is taken. I funneled my feelings at the time into
this piece and this was the result. I respect everyone’s feelings, good or bad, towards it.

Submitted: March 19, 2018

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Submitted: March 19, 2018

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An Endless Knife

In memory of Robin McLaurin Williams

It begins deep down but is unknown,
From lingering thoughts and being alone.
The smile remains to hide the weeper,
The knife begins to press itself deeper.

Cherishing first the joy of others,
They do not see the ghost that smothers.
To all your friends you are a leader,
But the knife still plunges even deeper.

It grows inside but you tell not one,
They look to you and expect a ton.
This slope that consumes simply gets steeper,
The knife continues to push itself deeper.

As you walk this path the darkness grows,
But the pain you feel nobody knows.
Thoughts of the end begin when your weaker,
The knife, with no hand, remains to go deeper.

Despite its bad image, it’s your only way out,
Talking and therapy just bring on more doubt.
You’re constantly drowning in a bottomless beaker,
The endless knife finds a way to go deeper.

When the deed is done, no one can fathom,
But they did not live within your chasm.
Your pain is relieved, as you walk with the reaper,
The knife which destroyed can no longer deeper.

You fought your demons for the ones you love,
But now you wait, for them above.
In prayers, your name, is the one they utter,
The knife is removed and no longer you suffer.


© Copyright 2018 Adam Ritchie. All rights reserved.

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