Strangled gasps escape from a set of slightly parted lips.
Vision starts to blacken and the hold gets tighter.
You feel marks beginning to form on your throat.
You claw and claw trying to break free but it's too late.
You tied the rope to the ceiling, you made the knot, you put your head in the knot, and then you kicked.
You kicked back the chair that previously held you with your eyes closed shut.
But then you heard the chair hit the floor.
Too late.
Your eyes opened, wide with fear and regret.
Shaky hands grasped the ripe and began to tug,
Trying to lose the hold of the mistake you made.
Yet the more you struggled, the more you tried to break free, the tighter the hold got.
Tears filled your eyes, blurring your vision, just like your mind was blurred right when you kicked back that chair.
Your mouth opened wide and prepared to let out a great shriek,
But all that came out was a string of gasps.
No one was coming and you knew it but that didn't stop you.
You started to kick wildly and claw harder at your throat.
As you clawed, your nails created marks and droplets of blood appeared.
The rope began to stain slightly and red spots mixed with the white.
Your legs slowed down, your arms began to give out,
Your eyelids felt heavy and your breath was shallow.
You decided to give in. No more fighting.
And then you stopped.
If only you hadn't kicked the chair,
If only you hadn't told.
You wouldn't have died.
Well, figuratively speaking.
If only.
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Prompt: Write a poem about literal or figurative suicide.
I tried to write figurative suicide and I'm pretty sure I failed.
