Black

a poem in free verse by Priya

Black. What she thought it would be like after she died.

As she sat in the corner of her room, that was all she saw,

and that’s all she wanted to see.

If she couldn’t see anything, maybe she could get away from her thoughts.

Her thoughts were her demons,

they ate away at her soul, and corrupted her mind.

Her thoughts were what were making her slowly fall apart.

Her thoughts were what made her want to take her life.

Her thoughts were what made her get up and put a knife a to her throat.

There was no one to turn to,

no one to talk to,

no one to understand.

She sat in the corner of the room, with her demons,

thinking it could all be solved with one swift stroke.

She looked into the mirror, weapon in hand, and put the blade to her neck.

She pressed in,

harder,

and harder,

until she saw the blood trickle down.

A little more she told herself, and then it would all be over.

She would be able to live in black.

She took one final look and went for it.

But just before she was able to reach her escape,

her phone buzzed.

For a second, all her thoughts stopped,

the world around her didn’t matter.

All that was on her mind was her phone.

She walked over, entered her five number password, and opened up her messages.

It was from her best friend, former best friend actually.

Without reading what he sent, her demons began to wander again.

They went to the present day,

back to their first texts,

and every conversation they had in between.

She remembered the day she told him about her demons,

the day he told her about his.

She remembered calling him fifty times at 1 am, because he wanted to kill himself.

She remembered the paragraphs he sent when she wanted to kill herself.

Tears began to roll down her face.

She was so used to having him there,

so used to his presence,

so used to his everything.

But her demons twisted the good into the bad.

They made her believe her memories didn’t matter.

All she could think about was how they weren’t and wouldn’t be friends again.

She finally checked the message.

It read “say if.”

She cracked a slight smile, realizing how much she missed his god-awful spelling.

She typed back “nvm,”

because if she talked to him, she would never be able to live in black.

He knew every inch of her, and she knew every inch of him.

Something was wrong, and he knew it,

but she couldn’t tell him.

Her demons told her she couldn’t.

Buzz.

Another message.

“say it and i can sleep in peace.”

Her whole soul ached for her to tell him.

Go back to telling him everything, so her demons wouldn’t kill her.

But she didn’t.

Tears kept falling from her puffy, red eyes.

She got up and looked in the mirror.

The small cut she made had stopped bleeding,

leaving only the blood on her chest as evidence anything had ever happened.

She picked up the knife once again, and her demons took control as they always did.

She took one final look at the girl in the mirror.

She liked what she saw, but she didn’t like the person behind the physical appearance.

She brought the knife back to her throat,

placing it right back into the slit that was already made

and said a silent goodbye to the world.

She made her decision,

but just then

someone knocked on the doo, and told her to come out for a minute.

She dropped the knife and put it back into the cabinet,

picked off the dried blood from her neck,

wiped away her tears,

and smiled into the mirror to fool herself and the world around her.

She walked out of the room as if nothing happened.

As the demons said,

“I know you’ll come back, and we’ll be here waiting

to take you to the black.”

Priya is a junior.  She says, “This poem is how I visualize the mind of someone who is suicidal. Too many people in society have contemplated killing themselves, and I feel that it is a very important for everyone to be aware that anyone can be having suicidal thoughts without showing it. I believe suicide prevention should be given more focus because anyone can be facing problems and can be contemplating taking their life. With this poem, I attempt to give insight into what I believe is the thought process of someone who is suicidal.”

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