During the moment I was killing myself
My mom looked at the inside of her purse on her belt
Smiled with her eyes, tracing back her youth
And said to herself, "Now I can buy your favorite food."
The moment the rope was attached to the ceiling
My father must be outside, hanging out with his friends, thinking
With the soundtrack in his mind silently playing
"Ah, he would've love this beat, he's obsessed with dancing."
The moment my eyes have set upon the chair, measuring my height to reach the circle
My friends were out there, stopping on their track, reading an article
"Depression is not a joke, but most people find it funny to use the word more often than we should."
Said my friend, "Oh yes, remember him? I wonder if he's ready to face us now, and let us in to carry what he hold."
The moment I was killing myself, dying inside from being still sane
My hands dropped from any sign of life, while it rains
Someone got his umbrella, rummage through the dark alley with fear
But he said, "I wonder where he is, he also hates thunder, hope he's just near."
The moment I was killing myself
I forgot who I am really, forgot that there's help
But somehow, with the last seven minutes of my mind
It was full of memories that I cherish, I forgot that I'd die
YOU ARE READING
One Hundred Fifty
RandomFifty, Fifty, Fifty A writing challenge for myself is to create fifty poems, fifty essays, and fifty one-shot stories, every single prekeng day to make it a hundred and fifty days of honing my skills and giving sparks to my interest. Here's the deal...
