You don't know suicide.
Jumping off a building,
Popping one too many pills,
Homemade nus in the basement,
Those aren't suicide,
Those are the results.

Suicide is one bad day,
It's being picked on at school.
And never feeling like you fit in.
It's people laughing at you,
Or pointing as you walk by.

Suicide is losing your friends.
It's finding out that they lied,
And that your friends aren't true.
Hearing about what they called you,
Or what your friends really think.

Suicide is looking in a mirror.
It's picking out every little flaw,
And comparing yourself to others.
Never feeling pretty enough.
Skipping meals and puking in the bathroom.

Suicide is never wanting to go home.
It's a houseful of screaming and hate,
And never feeling like you're worth anything.
Locking yourself in you room,
And playing the music too loudly.

Suicide is feeling alone.
It's being invisible to people around you,
And never having someone listen to you.
Never being able to say what you think,
Or give your opinion on anything.

Suicide is hate.
It's being pushed to the limit,
And trying so hard to not explode.
It's ignorant peoples words and actions,
And trying to ignore them.

Suicide is the first time you think,
"Would people miss me if I were gone?"
It's when you feel like you can't take it.
Crying yourself to sleep every night.
Suicide is the first time you think about that gun,
Laying in the top drawer of daddy's dresser.
Wondering if that drawer is locker or not.
Suicide is finally going into daddy's dresser,
And taking the gun out of it,
Placing the cold metal to your temple.

Suicide is the death of a person,
A soul.
That can't happen in the second it takes,
to pull the trigger of a gun.
Suicide is slow and long and painful,
And felt by thousands of people everywhere.
Suicide happens before you jump off the building,
Swallow the pills or tie the rope.
Your dead long before that,
Death is just the only thing to do afterward.


 
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