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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

If you're ever feeling sad or like you want to hurt yourself please don't bottle it up, call 1-800-273-8255

Imagine being so sick of the world you wish to remove yourself from it.
Unfathomable, isn't it?
Well not for the girl on the roof, or the girl in the tub, or the girl on the ladder.
Not for the girl with the bottle in her hand, or the blade against her wrist.
Not for the girl standing in the school lunchline while she gets snickered at for her hair.
Not for them.

Imagine being so absolutely disgusted with yourself, that you'd rather die than have to deal with being in your damned body another day.
Seems so unbelievabley ridiculous, huh?
Well not for the guy in the bar, who drinks himself senseless every night so he doesn't have to think.
Not for the guy who stumbles down the dark, wet alleyway, rain pounding on the pavement
while he can't tell if the liquids on his cheeks are tears, randrops, or puke.
Not for the man, whom was once a respected business man, now sitting on the corner,
the guy you pass on your way into the liquor store.
Not for them. 

Imagine 3 of these people were to meet.
Insane, right?
Well not when the man whose life has gone down the drain in place of the whiskey stumbles into the liquor store.
Not when he passes the homeless man begging for change,
who clangs that tin cup a little louder just to see if it makes a difference.
Not when the girl standing on the roof sobs and rocks back and forth, teetering on the edge of the bricks.
Not when the previously profound man looks up to catch the eye of the girl, who looks away to glance over at the drunken mess.
Not for them. 

Imagine none of them say a thing to each other.
100% unbelievable, correct?
Well not when they do just that.
Not when the girl still jumps, and the homeless man still dies alone, and the drunk man moves on to heroin. 
Not when all of them are too selfish to think correctly.
Not for them.

You see the thing is,
No matter what situation they were all in, they would've never helped each other.
Wanna know why?
Because hurt people hurt people.
And in the end, all it is to the healed people is

Submitted: October 06, 2020

© Copyright 2022 G. Quaglia. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:


Fayren S.E. Tye

Great message, rings loud and clear.

Tue, October 6th, 2020 3:26am

G. Quaglia

Thank you!

Tue, October 6th, 2020 11:16am

Steven P. Pody

Fathom and death -- ironic poetical association in a semantic and physical sense. A fathom equals 6 feet - and we're all "buried 6 feet under". "Unfathomable," relative to your poem, could mean not only being impossible to understand the concept of a sad and permanent ending - as in your unfortunate examples, but also literally not being able to imagine being put 6 feet under (dead). A coincidence of depth and death. ...Anyhoo, a fine work of desperation, and the awareness thereof.

Mon, October 19th, 2020 10:23pm


Oh my goodness thank you so much for this

Mon, October 19th, 2020 5:49pm

DLCannon Reprise

Nicely put. I loved how real this is. It's right under every one's noses!

Tue, November 17th, 2020 1:37am


Thank you!!!

Tue, November 17th, 2020 4:07am

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