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Was asked to post one of my poems

posted 3/22/2007 7:28:57 PM |
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tagged: poem, hanging, suicide

Her Toes where painted a dark red, and her body was wet from the shower. Her night gown clung to her body as she moved the chair to the spot she had choosen. While doing her chore in her mind she kept saying please don't break over and over again. The rope was put into place and the letter to her family was written. Her letter told of her pain and lonelyness, of how her every thought was of the children and life she had lost. Of how she couldn't leave the house for fear of seeing a laughing child or a couple in love. Her ache so deep inside of herself, knowing she would never have that again. She grabbed a small bucket and sat it next to her chair along with a large, sharp knife. The knife felt so cold against her skin, and the hair on her arms stood up as if they knew what was coming. She climbed upon the wooden chair and she started shaking a little afraid of what was to come but knew this had to be done. She grabbed the rope and wrapped it around her neck, than tighten it so it would get the job done.
Than when she felt as if it couldn't get any tighter, she took the cold sharp knife and moved her arms over the bucket so not to get the floor dirty, she moved the knife across her wrists ever so slowly so she could remember the pain till she couldn't feel anymore. As the blood dripped from the jagged wounds across her wrists, she dropped the knife and let her thoughts roam for a moment to her children. She couldn't remember her daughters hair color anymore, was it brown or a black color. She looked down for a moment and noticed the dripping blood was missing the bucket and felt sorry for who ever had to clean the mess, but she knew it wouldn't be her cleaning it up and gave a slight giggle. The noise sounded hollow in her ears but she didn't care anymore. As she started to feel light headed she decided it was time to finish the job, her toes moved to the end of the chair and she pushed the chair over. She could feel the rope tighten around her neck and she no longer could get air. Her throat was being crushed and she wanted to stop the panic raising up in herself. She tried to think of her children as she felt her head fill up, and her chest was starting to burn. Slowly she started to fade and her last thoughts where of her smiling childrens faces.

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Mar 22 @ 8:47PM  
I love your poem

Mar 22 @ 9:55PM  
I think you've got some talent. However, I dislike the subject matter.

I disdain the act of commiting suicide. My mother did it when I was nine, and it was the most selfish thing she ever did.

Again, well-written.


Mar 23 @ 12:04AM  
Awsomely written but I have a question?!?! Why is it most peots mostly write sad tragidies?!?!?! I love to hear about happiness and fun not death!!!

Mar 23 @ 3:20AM  
I truely hope this is not something that has touched your life personally, for it is a tragic loss of life, when there is suicide there are many victims. Sorry to hear about your mom MonkeyWoman, my husband also committed suicide. To bad people can't think of the ones they leave behind, and the effects it has on them for the rest of their lifes.


Mar 23 @ 8:37AM  
Very well written and although a bit dark for my taste, you made me feel what she was feeling during the process. That makes you an excellent writer. Well done.

Apr 30 @ 9:12PM  
I have to agree you've done a super job in the writing of this piece...kudos. The subject matter is very personal for me as well, since my mother took her own life some years event from which my family has yet to recover (will we EVER? I often wonder). What a great forum we have here to discuss these things that affect us as human beings. We all share a commonality: we are all vulnerable souls on this journey called life, and every life is of significant VALUE. Perhaps if those who have gone before us via the tragedy called suicide had 'friends' or even an on-line community where they might have expressed themselves in the living years, they would still be amongst us where we could still be loving them, talking to them, appreciating their contribution to our lives each and everyday. Great job, girl! Let's see some more!? Kris

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Was asked to post one of my poems