Impulse

You whispered to me, cold breath that felt like decay, "I thought I could fly."

It’s a knife
It’s a pill
That sends you up the wall
Does it hurt?
Do you fall?
Is your soul lying in the dirt?

With all the worms
Crawling and feasting
On your heart, on your soul
It’s over baby, your term.

While you watch the days and nights
From your hole,
Like watching porn.
I could have sworn,
You whispered, “I thought I could fly.”
After that fatal stroll
Down the cliff.
 

And I think, What if?
This poem is vulgar
Because it tells the truth
Of a feeling called impulse
 

To make that final wish to die
In the way of suicide.

Author's Note

Wrote this orignally for a club at my school, "Never too late", to raise awareness on Teen Suicide.