Subconscious Overdose


A darkened room

on a bedside table

lies a note.

A tale of woe...

of hopelessness...

of emptiness...

of her pain.

With shaking hands

she pours out

a palmful of various pills.

Different colors, sizes, shapes.

Staring at them

she grins wryly

as the odd thought

passes through her mind

of what an interesting design

they seem to make.

'Funny', she thinks,

'How such tiny things

can offer what nothing

or no one has been able...


Her hand slowly lifts

to her mouth

as she deposits

it's contents within'.

Grasping a glass

she flushes down the pills

with the cool water.

'Her last drink'

she realizes

as she quenches her thirst

a final time.

She knows that soon

she will need drink no more.

Nor eat...nor want...

nor cry...nor feel.

For she will need nothing

ever again.

In her last moments

of consciousness,

she prays forgiveness

for the deed she has done.

She's tried for so long,

she can try no more.

Her eyelids grow heavy.

Her body weaker.

She lays her head

upon the soft pillow.

Her breathing grows shallow.

Her heartbeat...faint.

She feels the release.

The triumph at long last

over her tormentor.

With her final breath

she whispers,

'I've beaten you...'

Jolted awake,

she looks to her bedside table.

No note. But a glass of water sits

with her bottles of pills.

Different colors, sizes and shapes.

She recalls her dream

as a tear falls silently

down her cheek.

Reaching for her pills,

she opens some bottles

and removes a pill from each.

Her schedualed dose.

No more...

no less.

She swallows them mechanically

with the cool water,

as has become the habit

of her survival.

Shrugging off the dream

she settles back down

upon her bed.

She knows

that no matter how bad life gets,

she'd never end it herself.

Before sleep overcomes her

once again,

she whispers,

'I've beaten you.'

View cathycavalcante's Full Portfolio
Anne D.'s picture

beautiful. so beautiful that i am speechless. i really loved this poem. keep it up, i mean it:)

Sheila Darity's picture

Dear Cathy,
How many times have I found myself thinking the same things, too many to count!!! But I always felt I'd be cheating myself out of something. I always chickened out on the "easy way out". There are times, yes, but I put my life in God's hands a long time ago. His will shall be done.
Thank you for writing a poem that I am sure has passed through many lupies minds....I hope most stayed strong!!
Love, sheila