PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

John


Depression is not a birth defect;

It’s actually a condition we can easily correct.

By being kind,

We restore someone’s mind.

We give them hope and love,

We give them faith in what’s up above

Don’t you think we can spark change?

Especially in this day and age?

If you said no, I’m sorry, but you’re wrong.

Let me tell you a story—that won’t be too long.

 

It all happened two years ago

And my brother John was feeling pretty low.

I had just come back from bringing my dogs on a walk.

I heard John and Mom in an intense talk.

Their talk had become an argument,

Their argument had become a fight—

What was going on?

I was standing on our unwatered lawn.

Everything became quiet.

I assumed nothing became violent.

Until I saw something that scared the life out of me:

John had climbed up the roof, as tall as the tallest tree.

My heart stopped.

I looked to my side and noticed that something small had dropped.

It was a wallet.

It was from my brother’s pocket.

Next to be thrown was his cellphone,

A few moments later, I heard a moan.

I could hear John cry.

I could see cars passing by.

He didn’t want to jump,

But he was caught in a slump.

He couldn’t handle it.

He felt like he just didn’t fit.

Did he want to die?

I glanced at the grass beside me, which would be where John would eventually lie.

No.

I couldn’t let this take place

So I stared straight into his face.

He looked at me with the upmost sadness.

I looked at him with the implication that this situation was madness.

I began to weep and beg him to come down.

I needed him to fix my frown.

But he didn’t obey

And I hated that day.

 

If you’re curious to know the ending of my story,

My brother didn’t take his life, and it became a bit more hunky-dory.

He eventually came to his senses

And I no longer felt apprehensive.

John slowly climbed down from the roof

If you don’t believe me, here’s some proof.

That’s my brother with a joyful grin

He’s now the happiest that he’s ever been.

Now he’s alive and healthy at 20 years old.

And he no longer feels like he’s being controlled.

He overcame the suicidal thoughts

And he finally connected the dots.

Sometimes it seems impossible to thrive,

But at least we’re alive.

©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.

alissarunarsirakul

View all poems →

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

Comments are closed for this poem.