Poem: The Suicides

I believe in Suicide, as well as Euthanasia.
The first time I learned about Suicide
I was in the 2nd grade.
My family life was so tragic
that I thought:
"Wow! Killing yourself, eh?
What an idea!
I never knew that was an option,
how novel!"

So I tried and failed, pathetically.
I tried three or four more times
over the years,
some more serious than others.
But every single Failure
tolde me unequivocally
that God
would not let me die
that easy.
This would be the beginning
of my passive/aggressive
hatred of God
that would trouble me
over the years to come.

I envy Those who succeed at killing themselves.
I feel like they got off lucky,
like God was in a good mood that day
and gave them a "Get Out of Jail Free" card;
letting them come back home early.

For Those who try and fail,
like myself,
I feel the deepest pity,
compassion,
respect,
and brotherliness.

Nothing sadder than
to try for the Final Exit
and fail.
Usually left with scars
from their attempt.
To remind them of their
Imprisonment on this Earth.
Forced to labor in misery.

As for those who have
great misery in their lives,
yet never contemplate suicide…
I am speechless.
I do not understand their wills,
their souls, or what keeps them
so attached to their life.
Likewise they rarely understand me
or "us" should I say,
for all us Suicides.
They look upon me with horror,
sadness, and often anger,
at my merest suggestion
that Suicide may actually be OK.
Might be a perfectly valid life-style choice,
rather than the
"horrible curse of mental illness"
Society labels it.
Making all Suicide deaths
"shameful"
rather than
"Heroic."
"Sick,"
rather than
"Brave."

I say again that I
do not raise death
on a pedestal.
No worshiper of death in me.
Suicide,
against my wishes,
is not meant for me.
Never-the-less I honor Those
who choose and chose
that Way to go.
I honor your Souls
as greater than many others.
Peace to You in Your Other-Place.
See you.