Suicide

Suicide.
Can be an escape.
Things happen,
You don't wanna face it

Your heart screams it's been bit.
Bitten red, bitten hard
Bleeding gut.

Suicide,
Can be a solution.
Things happen,
You don't know if facing it helps.

Your heart screams its desperation.
Desperation for love, for what's lost
Lost like the shoe washed down a stream
Lost like the angry words spit in a heated argument
Lost like the broken tendons in a heart

That will never repair itself,
That will never heal,
That will never mean what it meant in the moment.

But still you live.
Because cliched as it sounds, suicide is not an option and things will come to pass.
Time will stitch up broken hearts and glue shut the cracks. It will soften the edges of shards and beautify the vase again to become the clear glass everyone remembers and loves.
But if you choose to suicide, it's an end, a wall you build that can never be taken down.
It's a door you lock that can never open by smashing your whole body against it, like they do in movies.
It's a story you seal with a quivering lip and shaky handwriting, an envelop that stays shut.
It's your story you seal, your path you lock, your future you block.
I will not slam and hate on the choices people make.
I will not pretend to understand anything; I am in no position to give advice on something I am supposedly ignorant of. But if possible, I would like for them to see and know, that suicide is not an option.
It never was, never should be.

Because then you will be giving your heart the opportunity to stop screaming and start singing.