Poetry Blogs (Suicide)
This poem is deeply personal to me and is about my time I spent as a crisis worker helping people who were experiencing mental health emergencies or attempts of suicide. The subject of this poem is suicide; please know that its contents could be triggering. If you or someone you know and love are experiencing suicidal thoughts or need to reach out, please don't hesitate to talk to someone. You are...
Saturday 10th October 2020 7:40 am
I wish I could express
The genes we both possess
To write a whole new strand
That others comprehend
This righteous indignation
The anger and frustration
But after all that's done
You're never really gone
Thursday 3rd September 2020 10:05 am
In a dusky morning, the sun was setting,
Wanted to scream in a silent mic.
No more of this frustration, no more of this hatred,
Death was the only freedom came to his mind.
Listening to the people, listening to himself he realised,
Many a things don't matter, So does his life.
Losing his hobby, his like, his ego, his pride.
Losing his humanity, was what it was like.
'Try to stay po...
Wednesday 8th July 2020 3:10 pm
It has been two years today
Since I have had a fight with my then girlfriend
And, crying bitterly, I entered the living room
Replied to my father’s concerns
And let him know his daughter was dating a girl.
No wonder he hasn’t spoken to me since.
But, this poem isn’t about me
And nor is it about a cousin sister of mine
Whose phone was found in the living room
Full with smuts and gay storie...
Friday 29th May 2020 2:06 pm
When sun comes against all odds
And the colours of life just pop
Or when the rain falls
It falls and falls
And you wet your lips
With piping hot tea
With warm biscuit
Savour the crumbs
Cosy and safe
In the arms of a jumper
The padding of the sofa,
Like a huge hug
Or when your face aches,
Your stomach vibrates
Because you are fighting to breathe
Tuesday 18th February 2020 5:52 am
Twas the dawning of Father's Day, so said Facebook
Not a feeling was stirring, not even a fuck.
No flowers were planted by the headstone with care
Cos a mad pauper's grave can have no headstone there.
The children were restless, and not in their beds
Cos visions of suicide danced in their heads
Of white overalls and of tablets and shame
And sickness and pimping, a life quite insane.
Monday 6th January 2020 4:49 pm