Letters to the editor for Friday, Jan. 15, 2016

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“Suicide is Dead”

The following poem, “Suicide is Dead,” is not a suicide letter. It was written in a motivational manner. I had some tough times in my life and eventually I received the help I needed. I wrote this poem to encourage anybody in the same position to seek help, to not become another statistic. To reach National Hopeline Network’s suicide prevention hotline, call 1-800-784-2433.

Suicide is Dead

I put a gun to my head

Thoughts of life, a piece of lead

A bottle that drowns a dream

Selfish of life, pain always screams

Suicide is dead

Anger grows as guilt cries

My world disappears before my eyes

Pills are taken, I lost count

Death coming soon as the tension mounts

Suicide is dead

Air escapes the needle’s sin

Life goes to sleep, now reality begins

The exit sign hangs over the door

Tears are bleeding, the heart wants more

Suicide is dead

I put a knife to my arm

Thoughts of cutting, to only myself I harm

Eyes and minds judge with disdain

Not even to try to understand my pain

Suicide is dead

Drugs escape my reality

I’m on display for no one to see

Darkness always holding me tight

My sins I begged to lose my fight

Suicide is dead

Five times I missed hitting the wall

Clouds kept me away, never getting the call

Kind words talking making sense

Loved ones hurting at my expense

Suicide is dead

I listened to their words, I cried

All my skeletons I no longer hide

Kind words they spoke, for me they cared

A reason to live, my soul is spared

Suicide is dead

Now I use the words in my head

Not falling down, I write instead

Kind words, get help, for now I thrive

Suicide is dead

But I am alive

Grant H. Wass

Carson City


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