My Unexpected Suicide
Poem by: Atton Brown
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 2017 Atton Brown. All rights reserved.