“Did you make it to my funeral?”
“Feel those goose bumps
As the coldness trifles, stifles your skin?”
Dearly beloved
Gather on, Over and abroad
Grace this spirit ever so simply
While roaming all and everywhere around
Eyes closed
Stiff as a board
Laying ever comfortably
Awaiting the burial
To my final trip, The grave
Feel a presence?
Notice the sudden change of temperature?
Invisible eyes upon you?
Can you finally feel me?
Even the dead can cry
Oh, What have I done?
Clinging onto pity
Oh, Flesh was an exquisite delight
What I did was wrong
When I was alive
I felt so alone
Now that I am dead
Alone would be better
Than perhaps now?
Yet, As I write this,
Am I alive?, Or dead?, I have no idea
Just want to go home
But is home
Really my abode?
Where do I belong?
I guess this is my suicide note from beyond
Written By,
James Darwin Smith II
2/18/10
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Wow, Jim, that is so haunting and sad. A lot of people don't believe there is anything after death, or they believe that suicide is the end of suffering. It may be the end of a physical existence, but consciousness continues on...And your poem to me describes the regret and remorse a soul would feel after doing such an act. Suicide doesn't end the suffering like people think...you carry it with you as part of your consciousness into the afterlife. Your poem really hits that part of it home.
ReplyDeleteThank you. Means alot to me,. Getting me and all.
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