My Unexpected Suicide

Reads: 249  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 3

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is one of many suicide notes i've written but this is the newest. I apologize for being so depressing please tell me what you think though.

Submitted: September 04, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 04, 2012



Where am I now? I’m lost once more

Was I ever found? Or just as lost as before

I go to that bench, that road. and I write

Have I even changed? Is this a worthless fight?

I learn from my faults and errors

Push passed all my fears and terrors

But do I fight in a circular motion?

Fueled by a lost hope and an empty devotion?

What’s my motivation to keep moving forward?

I haven’t given up, but what am I walking toward?

L o v e has escaped now it seems unreachable

My heart cold and barren, that warmth is un-teachable.

I haven’t “changed” so much as deteriorated

Everything I force to the exterior, hated

I hide beneath the surface, what I’m too timid to display

I have to hide, because the truth may leave you in dismay

Truth be told... I don’t want to be here

There's honestly nothing in particular that I fear

But I simply lack a purpose

My reason on this earth is…

What? To be ridiculed

As a pitiful



Fucked up and cynical individual?

To be berated and hated

Because of this persona I’ve created?

Why live on something so hollow

When all I want is for the world to swallow

Me whole, consume me, and then defecate

But we rarely get what we want so I’m left here to mediate.

To muse on the future, the present, and past

What’s to come, what is, and what’s already passed

I try to adjust my philosophies and ignore the bad

But how can you know what you want, without addressing what you’ve had?

I’ve had shit handed to me on a silver platter

I’ve been bombarded with, “you’re worthless,” and “you don’t matter.”

These epithets do not define me

So why is it so difficult to put them behind me?

I so desperately wish to move ahead

But the future I see for me…ends with me dead.

Dead by my own hand

Will this finally make you understand?


This is my suicide note, just something for you to read while you’re in traffic.

Just another piece of paper describing things a little too graphic

I want my words to paint a picture, one bloody and dramatic

My mangled body in your eyes and your response is almost automatic


You scream you cry

You think one word, why?

And when you do ask why I want you to look in the mirror. Peer in the reflective glass

If you really have the gall to ask


I’ve been telling you why for years at a time

I’ve screamed it in your face; I’ve placed it in a rhyme

I’ve written it in letters

Been medically treated and I’m still not better

They blame it on mental imbalances

I point my finger at the harsh and callousness

I place blame in myself because it was always my fault

I lock my emotions away in this grand steel vault

I don‘t even acknowledge them until it’s too late

Until the knife has sealed my fate

Until the blood is flowing on the floor

Until the cops are banging on the door

Until your tears fall on my cold dead corpse

And you’re still mad at me…of course

Nothing I ever do or did was enough, for any person I knew

Not him, not her, not them, not you

I tried… I sincerely hope you know I tried

It was inevitable however, my “unexpected” suicide.


© Copyright 2018 Atton Brown. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:




More True Confessions Poems