A poem from the book Confession From the Edge

The Dark Veil Removed

A burden of thoughts weighs on me

like a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound man.

Tears no longer seen—

but still, they sting.

Walking through life on autopilot,

with responses reduced to a mere grin.

Screams never heard,

words dismissed as venting—

or, God forbid, murmuring.

Wanting to be seen,

yet constantly provoked by his torments,

his suggestions that echo like truth—

the only way out.

Out of the grieving of my life.

Out of the blackboard of suggestions

where Suicide dragged his jagged nails daily—

until I dropped everything

and saw only him.

Out of the darkness and numbness.

Out of that stench.

Because no one acknowledges me anymore—

because I am his, and he is mine.

They’ve cut off all communication,

not realizing Suicide has taken my voice

and stolen my will.

All the while,

his hands are wrapped around my spirit.

In silent agreement, I lift his grip—

and Suicide takes me,

for the first time,

in the tightest embrace.

My eyes are now open—

for the first time.

Truly open.

For the first time,

I am struggling to survive.

Now—

I feel pain.

Now—

I yearn for strength.

Now—

I finally want to speak.

A moment of insanity,

Suicide whispers,

is born from silence—

from the belief

that no one sees,

no one hears,

no one cares.

He made me believe it.

Fed me that thought

until it became my truth.

And just when I gave in,

just when his embrace tightened,

I woke.

To pain.

To breath.

To fight.