WARNING: This poem contains direct reference to suicide, which may disturb some readers. Discretion is advised.
Wouldn't want you to die
And make us look bad
After all of the pain
That we both have had
On the back of this envelope
We hope you'll find
The number for your local
Suicide hotline
Couldn't give you the cash
You haven't suffered enough
But with that in mind
Please don't beat yourself up
Try to think positive
Though you've been declined
Try to call your local
Suicide hotline
You say that you can't work
But try just taking a walk
You say that you can't walk
Have you tried meditation?
This thing you say is eating you
Maybe it's been feeding you
Lies about what you can do
Have you tried therapy?
Wouldn't want you to die
And make us look bad
Losing public trust
Would make us so sad
We won't pay your bills
But we think you'll find
An exclusion of our liability for your self-inflicted death;
The suicide hotline
YOU ARE READING
Something Unbearably Pretentious
PoetryA collection of poetry in no particular order and on no particular subject. Don't mind the cover, I didn't want to spend time making one so I'm using a scan of a drawing page full of this guy I made who kinda looks like how the internet draws Spamto...
