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Suicide isn't a Thank You - Collaboration Work

Suicide isn't a Thank You

 

SachikoMochiko & SinisterPotatoe (Jack)

 

“Jack!” my heart falls into a deep, dark, cold abyss as saltwater crystals rush like a waterfall down my cheeks. He ended it. Officers held me back, refraining me from attending his bloody body…his soul has left.

 

Three months’ post-Jack’s departure, I scuffle his belongings. The old apartment was dewy and rusty at the same time. My calloused fingertips hover past a dusty paper. Hidden. Hidden behind his mirror. I carefully unfold the dust-magnet flat. A poem:

 

From the hollow pit of my emotions, I’ve reached the end

 

The end, that determines my fate…

 

I’ve reached the end, my only friend

 

The end, that leaves me bent

=

 

Around the bend, regards have been sent

 

The very bend left the very dent

 

As I fend off the reality…I’m bent

 

=

 

O’ since the blood drips to my fingertips

 

We struggle…I struggle

 

I know it’s hard, we’ve come so far, but everything will eventually be over

 

Like a story…all stories end, eh?

 

So, I’ll be the one to end it

 

=

 

What goes up must come down…it’s the law

 

But the law isn’t any determinant…

 

We protect the law, right?

 

==

 

Shhh…

--

 

Before my empty shell is found dead

 

Before my empty shell, where my soul left, morphs back to the Earth…where I belong

 

 I promise not to frown

 

 If you’re still in town, I beg you visit my grave,

 

 but I’m sorry my sadness wasn’t a faze

 

And if your soul is more than grazed by my departure

 

Know that through all the torture and the pain,

 

Through all the blood, the tears and the wails…

 

 you were the one who kept me sane

 

==

 

Surely, this is an excuse

 

Well, my only friend…

 

I am mistaken, I am not bent

 

I am not dented

 

But I am broken…unable to function anymore,

 

in this beautifully rotten world

 

=

 

Sunshine or rain, I beg you to refrain from crying,

 

 because at least, I am healed through death

 

I’m biding my holy time, with every new rhyme it’s a struggle. I can’t smuggle happiness back into my life…

 

It’s against the law…the laws that I wrote inside my young, naïve mind

 

The very laws that kept me in this cage

 

With all this baggage and luggage, I act like I’m at peace

 

At heart, I’m being weighed down by myself

 

I pound at the barrier between me and others, my prison,

 

I’m chained and bound, pulled down, buried in the mud, I was forgotten

 

But I’ve risen above it

 

I love it, life, and every knife in the back has brought me a crack in the wall,

 

however small, someday I’ll break free

 

I’ve brought forth emotions that have sought to honor the ones who never run from my side

 

I don’t abide by reasons to cry unless they are tears of joy or a new way to get stronger

 

When I rot, when my body is nothing but issue

 

a goner north of my goals, dead in my hole at least I’ll know my soul was honorable

 

And if your sad, don’t be

 

I know you think suicide isn’t a thank you, but it’s a sign of escape

 

Escape from this prison that binds me…

 

Twists me…

 

Bends me…

 

Breaks me…

 

Have faith, my honors always been a stake, don’t worry, fake words, tongues that lie will eventually break

 

===

After all, what goes up must come down

 

 

And when that happens you will no longer frown, stick around and keep your mouth shut until you have the right to speak

 

Because suicide may kill me, and weak freaks are fodder for lies, and propaganda flies its flag until the target dies, but words won’t kill the truth

 

And even though I’ll never know it, you will, write the story, and don’t worry about me

 

I’m already free

 

-Jack

 

Once again, saltwater crystals flow down my cheeks. By not like a harsh waterfall, but like little fairy steps, tickling down my sullen flesh.

 

“May your soul be free”

 

 

 

 

This is an extended version of SinisterPotatoes (Jack) original poem Suicide isn't a Thank You. See it here: http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/SinisterPotatoe/1972625/

Hope you like it! (especially you sir, SinisterPotatoe (Jack))

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is an extended version of SinisterPotatoes (Jack) original poem Suicide isn't a Thank You. See it here: http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/SinisterPotatoe/1972625/
Hope you like it! (especially you sir, SinisterPotatoe (Jack))

Just added a little tang to it...that's all - SachikoMochiko


How I can improve: Quote from JayG


• “Jack!” my heart falls into a deep, dark, cold abyss as saltwater crystals rush like a waterfall down my cheeks. He ended it. Officers held me back, refraining me from attending his bloody body…his soul has left. 

This has emotional impact when you read it because you know who "Jack" is. You know who's speaking, who's bloody, and what they are to each other. You know where they are in time and space, and what's going on.

In short, you supply the emotion content as you read, because the words act as pointers to images, information, memories and more, all stored in your mind.

But the reader has only what the words suggest to them, based on the words they've read to any given point. So for them, your words act as pointers to images, information, memories and more, all stored in YOUR mind.

You either need to point to triggers in the reader's mind, or include them in the narrative.

Because of that missing context, when you reach the poem section, it's someone we know nothing about lamenting a situation that's unknown.

The voice "telling" this to the reader knows what's going on because they have context. You know for the same reason. The writer of the poem—that bloody unknown who's quoted knows. Even the officers holding this person of unknown age, gender, and situation back know. But you wrote this for the reader.Shouldn't they know, too? How can it hold emotional content for that reader if they don't view the events as you do?

In writing, context isn't just important, it's the key to reader involvement, and the reason that we need to edit from the reader's seat, not based on our intent. When we release our words, our intent, and everything about us becomes irrelevant. It's our words and how we place them, and what they suggest to-the-reader, based on their background, not ours.

Sorry my news isn't better. 

Hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/

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Love Best Quotes Free

1) I miss you a lot baby and don’t worry… I’ll wait no matter how long it takes for you to make up your mind. xoxo

2) I love hugging you but I hate letting go. I love saying hello but I hate saying goodbye. I love watching you come towards me but I hate watching you walk away. I miss you.

3) A fish without fins, a bird without wings. A crab without claws, a cat without paws. Me without you, you without me. I miss you.

4) I have been diagnosed with the deadly I Miss You Syndrome due to which I suffer from a permanent and irreversible disability of Missing You all the time. I miss you sweetheart.

5) I want to hold your hand, hold you close, hug you tightly, kiss you softly, and let you rest your head on my chest so that you can hear my heart beat… just for you. I miss you.

 

get more romantic wishes and other inspirational quotes here Love Quotes for him

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Free

The child was chosen to go through a task,
This specific task would give her a mask.
A mask of darkness and loss of hope,
Where she could be and no one else could go.

She was young,
A girl of just eight.
Adult issues and drama,
Would declare her fate.

She closed off her heart so no one could see.
And she felt locked like a bird that couldn’t fly free.
In this cage, she felt lonely and had been frigid like frost,
Self-pity, despair, and that the war was just lost.

There are moments she
Finds her wings feel broken.
Grueling with feelings
And words left unspoken.

Little did she know the war was not over,
And victory was right around the corner.
She peered to the sky that was full of light
No longer lost, she yearned to fight.

Days into months
And months to years,
The pain remained
With fake smiles and tears.
She flew to the ceiling and into the door.
When she thought she was done and could fly no more,
She pushed one more time for one last hurrah!
The door crumbled down to the floor like she thought.

She found solace and light
Along paths she walked
She felt strength and peace
Whenever she talked.

Glad that she fought with all her might,
She flew high and fast past billows of white.
No worries were with her to the great heights she flew.
No more consumed with the feelings of gloom.

With streams of red and rays of gold,
Her heart light again broke free from the cold.

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what stops me.

the words need to be beautifully-provoking

you cannot subjugate them.

they must remain random and free.

they will take time, but be eager.

and when it finally gets out on paper.  

you will feel better.

 

reach for that inspiration,

look for your muse.

and only time will tell

if the words can be put to use.

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Dear Writer

Write and write, then write some more

Oh how some have said “It’s a bore.”

What do they know? They don’t see

The magic of these words on trees

Tiny strips of once grand woods

Hold whole worlds, even in death

The tree is gone, but life is there

And it grows with every breath

To create such things as worlds and lives

To build them up and rip apart

The power, the emotions, oh dear writer

Here is a portal to your heart

Look at how each person changes

Look at how your worlds expand

Do you see lives rearranging

And all within your master plan

Oh, the excitement! Oh, the joy!

Beauty is here, beauty and life!

In the quiet of humble homes

A universe hides inside

Some poor souls won’t understand

They’ll never see what you have done

Don’t live for them, don’t mold your worlds

To show the cruelty they’ve become

Take a breath, then get to work

Go live within what you create

Be surprised, feel admiration

Feel love, joy, jealousy, and hate

Don’t be afraid to stray away

And wander down an unknown path

Surprise and awe aren’t just for readers

Not everything will need a plan

Just let the life grow on its own

Let the people all be free

And in their freedom, you will find

A world where you may wish to be

Life isn’t set in stone, my friends

And your writing is the same

Your words are alive, so just relax

And walk within your stories

Always remember, your world is living

It’s not just scribbles on a page

And always know, it’s your creation

 

Be proud, and please, keep writing

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I love writing, and got so excited when talking about writing that I felt the need to write a poem about it. Hope you enjoy.

You are Free!

I loved you madly so,


You didn’t value my sentiment though,


How could you act like a statue,


Devoid of feelings and virtue?


 

As a divorced pigeon,


Finds another companion soon,


I’ll start life newly,


Since the destruction of life is cowardly.


 

Girl, must you remember,


That breaking a heart, you can’t be content ever.

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tags:

*End Of Time*

 

 November.30.2000

 Trisha Barrek Hopkins

 

It's almost here

End of time

A drop of a tear

A drop of a dime 

The sudden fear

Of losing your mind

Knowing the light is near

It's nothing from man kind

 

All you know

That's the direction you stear

The pain you have you try to show

But no one is taking notice

Not even trying to care

They would be happy to see you go

It's not really fair

 

The hate from people you know

Yep it's almost the end of the line

We're either God or the devil

Who takes your soul

And people always thought you were fine 

They didn't look deep enough

But yet it is your most challening goal

You even thought you were tough

You haven't figured out yet

But it all changed when you two met

 

For God to take away

From his horrible sight

You don't want to take another day

You don't want to take on your tears

You don't want to fight 

Or face your fears

But in all of this 

When someone asks what's wrong

The answers are at miss

And you have nothing to say

You have no reason to live 

You realize you're not strong

 

You don't want any more tasks

To try to take on all by yourself

You need someone to help you

The end of time is near

Someone you need

One that will stick by your side

A love to feed

Someone that's true

Someone who won't hide 

 

Their feelings

Their happiness

Their meaning of life

Their heart

Their love

You need it all

To pick you up when you fall apart

To tell you you're elegant

And beautiful as before 

As pure as a dove 

 

Please wipe the sadness

That lurks in your eyes

You don't want that anymore

The madness

That stops you from having blue skies

You try your hardest to ignore

But that in a million years

Will never happen your soul begins to die 

By the end of time 

 

I will be weak

To have any love to send

Or any power to seek

The power to mend

That special love

That special friend

My luck has run out 

Because I never had none

I feel so trapped 

To scream too much it hurts like a ton

IT's so disturbing I can't even dream

I've tried so hard but they have won

 

I've given up and tried to stick with it 

But only for awhile

That never lasts

It goes out of style

And once again

I relive my past

When will it all end

 

My heartaches

Tears that run like a river 

This pain never gives me a break

How do I survive

I then get sick and start to shiver

And this depression is so thick

I no longer feel alive

 

The end of time is so close to me 

I'm dying inside

I just want to be free

I no longer want to hide

 

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