Poems

A poem to my suicidal friend

You say that you're weird

You say that you're dumb

You that you're ugly

People treat you like scum.

You think you're alone

You don't even defend

When people point at you and laugh

And you don't see an end.

You look at the blade

On your nightstand, at the top

But see cutting your wrists

It won't make pain stop

People push you and punch you

At school every day

Your friends ask you "How are you?"

You lie and say "I'm okay"

Kids spread rumors and rumors

Lies and whatnot

All the stuff you think's negative

Every discouraging thought.

Your friends find out

From your wrist's cut line.

They try to help you

But you tell them you're fine.

But really you're not.

You're in a worse spot than ever.

You're friends see it, too.

They see your displeasure.

You take a hard math test

You studied for weeks

You get a 98 percent

And your happiness leaks.

You show your mom your test

Hoping she'll be glad.

Instead, she's furious.

Less than a hundred is bad.

She takes out a pan

From the cabinet below.

She raises it high

You scream with every blow.

Your friends see bruises

The next day at school

You try to say you fell off of your bike

But they know your mom's cruel.

The next day you're not at school.

Your friends sit and worry.

They wonder where you are

They hope that you will hurry.

You were away because you couldn't stand it.

So you tried to end your pain

You tried to kill yourself for the seventh time

Depression taking over your brain.

It doesn't work, though.

You're still alive.

You sit there by yourself, upset.

You didn't want to survive.

School's your real home.

Your house is on your list of "hates"

At school you're safer.

At home danger awaits.

Your best friend tells the teacher

To try to save you really fast.

It didn't work as he had hoped.

He hoped your life would last.

Counseling and therapy

By unhelpful adults at seven.

Your friends try to help the same

But we are only eleven.

"We can help you," Bella said.

"No you can't," is what you say

"If grown ups can't help me than

Eleven year olds can't in any way."

"We're your friends," Jacob insists.

"We help more than anyone can."

"But you can't" You say back.

And there, off you ran.

You don't know this

But the pain, it will end

In the meantime, love yourself.

And know that I'm your friend.

Sincerely, Your friends:

❤ Izzy, Bella, Annabelle, Jacob and Sofia❤

To those who are like my friend, call 1-800-273-8255 because your life matters