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Decrepit Honesty
Decrepit Honesty
Yeah Iāve written many poems about myself They tend to start or be titled around honesty And, like this one, are conversational
Iāve battled with mental health a while Itās a weird thing It has itās ups and downs Some good, some really bad
Iāve battled with addiction Well, I suppose I am Addiction is a hard thing to look away from It always felt so good
My mental health isnāt stable I know that The days blur together Although they are usually good
Itās when the moon projects its light The stars shine The black night stares at me
Thatās when it gets bad
Iāve contemplated suicide more times than I can count I was inches away from it once I mean I was in the cold garage I sobbed on the concrete floor I had this rope It wasnāt very thick I wouldāve had to die by suffocation I was content with that.
I didnāt do it.
So, here I am. Maybe a survivor Maybe just a man.
I still contemplate suicide. Rather often However My father went out that way I envy him sometimes Hate him the rest.
Ludo itās very likely you will never read this poem. Youāve read many But. I donāt think, at-least not yet. That you should know this.
Suicide is serious. It is permanent. I have not done it yet. I donāt think I ever will. However, I will probably continue contemplating it Thatās okay As long as I continue as I am
Alive.
Decrepit Honesty
Yes Iāve written many poems about myself They often start or are titled with honesty And, like this one, are casual
Iāve struggled with mental health for a while Itās a strange thing It has its highs and lows Some good, some really bad
Iāve struggled with addiction Well, I guess I am Addiction is hard to ignore It always felt so good
My mental health isnāt stable I know that The days blur together Though they are usually good
Itās when the moon shines its light The stars glow The dark night looks at me
Thatās when it gets bad
Iāve thought about suicide more times than I can count I was very close to it once I mean I was in the cold garage I cried on the concrete floor I had this rope It wasnāt very thick I would have had to die by suffocation I was okay with that.
I didnāt do it.
So, here I am. Maybe a survivor Maybe just a man.
I still think about suicide. Quite often However My father died that way I envy him sometimes Hate him the rest.
Ludo, itās very likely you will never read this poem. Youāve read many But. I donāt think, at least not yet. That you should know this.
Suicide is serious. It is permanent. I have not done it yet. I donāt think I ever will. However, I will probably continue thinking about it Thatās okay As long as I continue as I am
Alive.