The Hardest Part

  September 10th, 2018 by Cause of Death: Suicide

It’s not the harassment, the rapes, the assaults, the night terrors, the stalkers, the pedophiles, the arrests, my time spent in the funny farm, the dirty ass whores, the perverts, the murderers.

It’s not the money they are taking from me, it’s not that I don’t have a car or a house, it’s not that I can’t breathe, it’s not my neck they’ve broken, it’s not that they ruined my body, it’s not that who I once was was murdered, it’s not the future they ripped from me, it’s not the medications they’ve shoved down my throat when I was 19 years old.

It’s not the happy families, it’s not the homeowners, it’s not the American Dream.

The worst of all is simply that I am still alive. The rest bothers me minimum. But the fact that I am simply STILL ALIVE. That brings me to despairs. I didn’t plan suicide for 10 years just to fail… and be left alive on earth with no reason to be so.

I will cut this off with a stanza that have been stuck in my head for a while today… “To all these hateful people judging, and hand-wringing. Oh Lord, why don’t you bury me in all they call sinning?”

And here is a line that tastes really bitter… “My country tis for the, our sweet land of liberty….” or, “…..the land of the free and the home of the brave.” I must have read this somewhere, it was actually, “the land of the incarcerated and the home of the slaves.”

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