Category Archives: The Suicide Series

The Fear

I’m so grateful for The Fear
The crippling, painful fright
Of all the unknowns
To dive into the abyss
Is a tempting pursuit
Chasing a dream
That’s running away
from my collection of old knowns

I stand upon the edge
Looking down, over, across.
Pushed by my fear
‘til I teeter on the brink
The fear’s allegiance changes
It comes around to face me
Full of courage
And shoves me into limbo
Pushed, pulled,
And hating The Fear

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Posted by on September 24, 2014 in Character, Poetry, The Suicide Series


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Alive in a Lifeless Shell

What’s it like to be normal?
To live a life undetermined
By an outside factor
To not know
But to hope

A life with a Best Before Date
All things pointing to it
The point where all will begin to change

A second puberty
My body will change
Everything I’ve known will change
Nothing will be the same
So many things learnt
Skills acquired, developed and honed
Just to be wiped out
With one swipe of the claw
Of the towering monster
I can see in the distance

Ready to attack me
While I lay defenceless
But it’s not a merciful beast
It will torture me
Throw its punches in waves
Ripping off a leg
Leaving me still
Unable to walk
Just held back
By the very things that allowed me freedom

Allowed to pull myself down the road
The creature overtakes
And waits just in front
In full sight
Not allowing me to forget
Not even for a moment
I pull myself towards
Because there’s no other way

The track raised
A thin line
Sandwiched between pits
Of sweet escape
But they’re fenced
Despite any pleas
Blocked when attractive

I reach the beast again
And its cold unforgiving teeth
Rid me of my arms
I’m propelled further
Past the monster
Being pulled
And pushed down the path

Rising from the ashes
The monster looks me in the eye
My response never arrives
A further strike

The path seems the hell
While caged in a shell
No exit
Only continuation
Pointless persistence
Subsidised by a visible arch
The entrance to relief

It comes closer
As I begin to resist its draw
Suddenly upon me
Passing through the arch
The monster laughs
Refocusing its pain
To the next one on the road
The poor soul
On this hellish path
Destined for the gate
But nowhere near soon enough


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Sacrificial Love

I’ve got a problem
I know I have
Doctor after doctor
Scan after scan
They always told me I’m fine
I know they’re wrong
I will make them know
I need to make them know
This can’t carry on
Who knows what I’ll do?
I can’t control myself,
So I’ll make them control me
A sacrifice
A battle to prevent a war
That’s what it is
I’m going to save lives

Desks and screams
Bloodshed and 911 calls
Cowering in fear
Of the bullets flying around
That’s how it will go

That’s how it is
One after another
No court,
No diagnosis
An autopsy
To find the problem
To stop the others
The gun to my temple
I see the headlines,
The shock,
The grief,
The debate,
The anger,
The legislation.
I’m saving lives.

I’m saving lives


Posted by on April 30, 2014 in Character, Poetry, The Suicide Series


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End of the Line

A journey to London
A well-known route
Travelled daily by businessmen,
Lecturers, secretaries and the rest
Into the hub of enterprise and moneymaking.
The carriage packed,
No room to move,
Everyone going about their mornings
Their routines untroubled
Coffee, books and shallow chatter
The train halts, an unwelcome delay
Not unusual, it’s England after all.

No-one expects punctuality
They’re all partially expectant
Leaves on the track
Unable to continue
Derisive tuts, the train goers’ symphony
Contagiously flowing down the train,
Moaning about late arrival at work
Complaining about their ruined day

Leaves don’t crack
Alternative explanations bubble up into the collective mind,
A long delay,
That’s less common,
A tannoy announcement,
Vague, an evasive tone,
Raising more questions than it answers
Speculation begins to grow,
Twitter is set ablaze
Silence in the carriage
Noises in the airwaves
Alerting followers of their suspicion –
Yet another traintrack suicide.
Not tweets of sympathy for the victim nor the family,
Angry self-absorbed snippets,
Commuters made late by such a selfish act
Others worried about their own safety
In the aftermath of the elimination of the need for safety for another
They’re afraid of what might happen to them,
Thinking about their families,
How they’d feel were something to happen

What about those to whom something has already happened?
A fleeting thought spared for them?
A story to tell their friends, their colleagues,
To enhance their popularity,
To catch the interest of their contemporaries.
One person who made the ultimate decision
Has helped to improve the social lives of many.
Attention from someone who’d always been cold,
The beginning of a relationship,
a family,
children born,
A happy family
Born from terminal unhappiness
Selfishness during the event
Led to great joy,
Not for the inconvenience, but for the inconvenienced.

Seeing the fallout
Of an action
They were considering
Leads to the realisation
Of the devastation
That they could cause.
Saves them from dying,
through dying,
If they saved more than one,
If two children come about,
A net gain for humanity,
But a tragic loss for humanity.

The apathetic reaction,
Regardless of positive outcomes,
Damaging the faith in humans,
No empathy, no mourning,
A lack of knowledge about the victim
Manifesting in a lack of care
A sparsely attended funeral
A single addition to the cemetery
Many benefits to the world,
Too many costs to those who were close.

Who won?
Who lost?
Or did it just not matter at all?

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Posted by on March 18, 2014 in Poetry, The Suicide Series


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A crowd of people going about their day
Nothing spectacular,
Nothing you wouldn’t expect.
Looking up, a figure comes into view
A mannequin? A joke? A social experiment?
It’s moving, must be alive, must be human.
A man or a woman, can’t tell from here.
A person with hopes, dreams, friends,
Parents who love them, doesn’t look like they know.
Suicide is the speculation, the presence of police is the confirmation.

More and more gather
It’s a spectacle, a show.
The faceless man,
has no identity,
why would we care?
No one knows him, they’ve no reason to care,
He’s just a body, assaulted by the wind
It pushes him, urging him to fall
The crowd is no different, urging him to fall


They urge him to jump.

They want a climax, they crave action
A human life, driven to the edge of a building
A mind so harassed it doesn’t want to be,
The end is nigh
I couldn’t tell you why, but I should stop it,
I should help.
‘JUMP!’ I hear myself cry
swept along by the crowd, craving a front row seat at the show of a lifetime
you’ve made it this far, why not carry on?
My mouth spits the acidic words,
he can’t hear me, does that make it better?
My thoughts are distressing, I wish it was me up there.

People he’s never met want to see him splatter
Spread out on the cold hard ground
Faith in humanity
Neither restored nor destroyed,
No room for blame, a young man sick of life,
Wouldn’t have jumped if shown some compassion
From a stranger, a friend, one of the people on the ground,
A crowd of individuals,
Individuals that could help
Prefer to be anonymous in the bloodthirsty crowd
Than a singular helper, if they fail they are alone,
At fault
Not one of many
At fault

But the crowd didn’t help.
No one stirred.
They waited and they baited.
And they were shocked when he fell.
One could have been the cure,
His life was in their hands
Our hands
My hands.

The blink of an eye.
the end of a life.
a life I knew nothing about
but couldn’t wait to see end.


Posted by on March 12, 2014 in Character, Poetry, The Suicide Series


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