Trigger warning - this chapter contains talk of suicide. If this bothers you, please feel free to skip ahead. Stay safe, readers 🖤
I see it, clear as day,
a girl's body, bagged, slack,
the aftermath of a messy end
at her own still, cold hands.
Covered, wheeled on a silver gurney
down the winding corridors
by gloved, gowned medics,
looking down at her with hardened eyes,
trying not to dwell on it;
what drove her to this destination,
the life that was curtailed - snipped short
mere hours ago.
Her eyes are gently closed,
and eerily still,
black lashes fanned out
against mottled, pale skin.
She's an empty, soulless vessel now.
There's no bringing her back
from this one.
She's pushing up daisies,
her lights are out,
she's bitten the dust,
given up the ghost.
All she's destined for now
is the mortuary.
YOU ARE READING
still surviving
PoetryA collection of poems and diary entries from the diary of a girl with mental illness. These are the words unspoken, the raw reality of fighting against your own mind in the battle for recovery. Some content may be triggering for some readers, partic...
