Suicide

9 lives is not enough

For the thousands of times I killed myself.

Every word I wrote

Is another pill i took

Every space left

burns my throat a little more

I’m killing myself

As we speak

But my blade

Is a pen

And each word a stab

With each sentence I die a little more

Each piece finished

Kills me off again

Who knows how many pages it’ll be

‘til I’m done for good

This may as well be my last bre   

Reviews

[Onku Ghosh]

Good write.Very well done.

[Simon Welsh]

I like how you ended this. Swell.

[Tai Ryens]

Hypocritical as it sounds; I've never been quite fond of teenage poetry. I find the rantings nothing short of mere just that: mere ramblings attempting to pinpoint the problem in which there is none, and the experiments to discover what their 'true calling' is.
Yours... Drips with anticipation. Each word, every action carefully plotted out to converse the emotions you never spoke, the breaths wasted to fix unsolvable equations. And, to be entirely honest, the ending made me breathe a sigh of discomfort.
I love this. I love your poetry.
Nice work, well done; and namaste.~

[Lina Grey]

well this is unique. i like how you ended it unfinished to drive the point home. each word a writer writes is killing them a little bit more. suicide. interesting :)