On January 31st, 2025, at approximately 6:00 AM, I composed the following poem following a period of emotional distress. The recent loss of my pet snake, Emerson, approximately twelve hours prior, served as a catalyst for this creative work.
Trigger warning: references of depression, suicidal thoughts, and self-harm
Please be advised: While this poem addresses sensitive subject matter, its intent is to foster a sense of community and shared experience for those facing mental health challenges.
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THE TIPPING POINT
I took a deep breath,
And wished for the end,
I’ve failed again my friend,
I’m still here,
It never ends,
Words are full of pretend,
Can someone explain the word ‘okay’?
I want it all to go away,
To drift into a fantasy,
Of happiness that will never be,
All these memories,
That never end,
There’s no such thing as friends,
Everyone’s motive is the same,
They all are trying to gain,
How can you trust again?
Be willing to be a friend?
When all there is, is pretend?
What’s the purpose?
Why try again?
The sadness creeps in,
Like cracked glass,
One day I’ll shatter,
Shatter so fast,
And I know it’s coming,
And I know it will last,
Because these thoughts,
Oh these thoughts always last,
They blink in and out of my life,
I want to shout,
But I bite my tongue,
I don’t want pity,
I don’t want your so-called answers,
I want relief,
A thing that no one can give me,
Something that is never permanent,
And is always fleeting,
I take these pills,
Like they say,
I trudge further,
Hoping everything will go away,
It’s all useless,
But that’s a forbidden thing to say,
It pisses people off,
To know you’re sad,
I don’t know why they get so mad,
If death is what I wish,
Shouldn’t a simple thing be granted?
Not to live forever haunted,
By trauma and memories,
By fear and anxiety,
By the overwhelming disappointment you are to those closest to you,
Forever damaged and put together by duct tape,
A wrapped package with it’s contents hanging loose,
They say the brain is a beautiful thing,
And maybe it is,
An organ so strange,
That turns in on itself,
Am I an experiment?
Something twisted from an alien’s mind?
To see how long I will last?
Miserable and with hopes dashed?
The red line gives relief,
But how many more can you hide?
Hide the wince as you walk,
But the pain makes you feel alive,
The burden you’ve put upon yourself,
Your own twisted medication,
A temporary stave off the horror inside,
There’s nowhere to go,
I’m forever trapped,
In a body I wish I never had,
I don’t quite fit the labels,
There’s no perfect explanation,
It’s like I’m a puzzle with all the wrongs pieces,
Of wrong shapes and gaping holes,
I try to bury myself further inside,
Hide the darkness in my eyes,
Hoping to blend in a little longer,
Before they grab the straitjacket off the shelf,
The ice pick is no longer an option,
And I’m thankful for that,
But the idea of being numb sounds fantastic.
