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POEM: The Curse

This is a plea from a broken heart,

Sharing my pain is where I’ll start.

I need lots of help to change a word,

Hijacked by terrorists, its meaning is blurred.

So here I am being your personal guide,

Highlighting the curse called suicide.

My last time was a close call,
Tested the noose so I wouldn’t fall,
Put pen to paper to say goodbye,

Someone help, I don’t want to die.

Ending it all will give me release.

All I desire is some internal peace.

I lost two brothers and my family cried,

After the second my brain was fried.

Suicide bombers use the same label,

This connection makes me unstable.

Terrorists and murderers bring guilt and shame,

Isn’t it time for a different name?

A separate label is a pressing need,

Their guilt and shame my brothers freed.

I lost two brothers and a part of me died,

Too much pain I still haven’t cried.

So let’s gather the facts and build a file,

And put this word on public trial.

Thank you for reading my humble verse
Please help lift this suicide curse!

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article or in the comments below, are not those held by CALM or its Trustees unless stated, and liability cannot be accepted for such comments. We encourage friendly and constructive debate, but please don't share personal contact details when commenting and exercise caution when considering any advice offered by others. We don’t allow abusive, offensive or inappropriate comments or comments that could be interpreted as libellous, defamatory or commercial and we will remove these without warning as and when we find them.

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