It's all-consuming,
a flame that scorches
everything in its path.


The rising ash is a daily reminder;
embers of the constant battle
raging in your mind. 


It controls you
like a puppet master;
if only you could cut the strings.


It leaves you with two options:
give in to the misery,
letting it devour you like a fire,
or to end it all.


Somehow they result in the same outcome,
an unbearable hell.


While some people see
self-inflicted murder as weakness,
it's the hardest thing for you to do,
but in your mind, the only thing.


You don't escape the land of the living
because death is appealing,
but because it's like the choice between
drowning or being buried alive.


Both bring you to the same place,
one just a little slower.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Rest in peace Robin Williams and all who see suicide as the only way

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