The Broken and Unheard

A dark room. Silent and alone
They, the broken, the unheard…
It is fitting they are alone in this very last moment
As they have been alone in all other ones.
What other sign did you want?

A shaky breath, cold wind,
Empty stomach, blood dripping.
Drip, drip, tracing patterns
On their arms.
Carving their stories no one would hear.

A gun, a knife, rope, pills, drowning,
Unsteady hands hold life and death.
Decide, decide, like a drum beating, demanding.
They, the broken, the unheard…
They are gone.

They, who we pass unwittingly day after day.
They, who smiles do not come easily from.
They, who run and run away but still have hope
That you will come and save them.
And when that hope is crushed….

Remember the fallen:
They who have looked in the mirror and
Decided they couldn’t stand it anymore. They who
Took their life because no one saved them…
Because they thought no one loved them.

Guide that inspired this poem: 

Comments

Rainingdaisies

this speaks to me, and I understand.

savigirl14

Wow a really good poem.  No one understands that the quiet one are normally broken and just want someone to talk to. Please read my poems and tell me what you think because I feel like you could relate to them.

kaouramharper

This is powerful! I love it. I love how it goes into how one feels when they are utterly, what they feel, alone. It reaches out to those who might not understand what others are going through. I've been there a few times and I'm glad I never quit. Thanks.

 

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