The Sense in Suicide

Location

Lincoln High School
United States

“It doesn’t make any sense” she said, wetting her face with sorrow

It doesn’t make any sense.

Well it might make a lot of cents for his single mother who now has one less mouth to feed.

But she doesn’t think of that.

No, she only thinks of the morbid moment when he made up his mind to no longer matter,

The time it took to tie that terminating twist to the tall taciturn tree that his mother will tear out tomorrow.

And everything inside of her refuses to understand.

“It doesn’t make any sense.”

To enslave Death no longer to Fate, Chance, and desperate men, but to one’s own desperate measures

Snatching the scepter from his hand, demanding he do his duty.

She knows not the breadth of Death’s dominion.

 

Death has a fair partner for those who fast forward to their end

With a good grip and friends in all the right places, he aids Death in taking what Death cannot rightfully own.

“It doesn’t make any sense” she said but she has yet to come face to face with Death’s best friend

And I pray that you never will.

You are lucky to not know the man that they call Suicide.

You are lucky you haven’t written him notebooks of love poems that consume the leftover thoughts of wasted dreams from under your bed.

They call his father Winter,

his mother the carpet cleaner used on accidental drops of blood between your bathroom and the cage you lock your demons in.

You are lucky he doesn’t crawl into your bed late at night after you wake, breathless from enervating nightmares,

Lucky he does not hold your non dominant hand through every family dinner,

Lucky he does not drive you home from school every single day.

Lucky to still be so blind

 

Suicide is not a man to be reckoned with.

He sets traps in every open door that your parents slam after finding out your brother is gay.

Don’t tell me it doesn’t make any sense until you’ve seen your life through the gray filter that clouds our eyes as we sink further and further away from the sun.

And so, you may not understand; your eyes damp in confusion,

but for the innumerable percent of those who are on a first name basis with Suicide: Do not ignore his presence.

For it is the ignorant who first sign away our lives to an unforgivable matrimony with a man we called our friend.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741