Over the Rainbow
A poem and more about the power of hateful words
Blow after blow
The powerful words flow
Like an ice cold shower
Where the drops feel more like snow
They feel like thrown elbows
And punch combos
It’s just enough
To make me want to go over the rainbow
Over the rainbow
Where the grass is supposedly greener
The air is a little bit cleaner
And there’s no room for bitter demeanors
Sometimes
Earth feels like hell
Hatred locks me in a cell
And oxygen leaves my lungs
Mouths become guns
Words serve as bullets
Ripping through my skin
Drowning in sin
He who has not sinned–
Gets to throw the first stone
But it’s too late–My body is already cold
Death by hate
Was it fate?
Or was it just
Someone that wanted to dictate
Blow by blow
I’m fading– I’m gone
Over the rainbow
If you’re able
Forgive me
For being empty
Barely twenty
But I’ve had plenty
I’m gone
Over the rainbow
–BFoundAPen
I’d like to take a moment to remember all of the people that lost the war with Depression. I’d like to take a moment to remember that sometimes you can’t tell what someone is battling on the inside. I’d also like to acknowledge the people that are still fighting today.
People forget how hurtful words can be. It’s easy to feel alone in this huge world, but I want everyone to know that you’re not. Depression is nothing short of a war. Anxiety is nothing short of a severe storm threatening to tear down everything you’ve built. I see you and I see how strong you are — even if you can’t see it yourself.
Why is it that all of my closest friends have thought about ending their life, including me? We’re all barely 21, and some of us have thought about ending our life as early as 12.
I was waiting on the bus one day when a friend of mine asked me to read a paper for her English 101 class. She told me it was about suicide, and originally I thought maybe a friend or a family member of hers had tried or succeeded. Then she said,
I think all of us have to deal with suicide in some way.
Through countless talks, I’ve learned the stories of my other friends and they’ve learned my story. I’ve learned that this is way too common. We don’t like to talk about it because it scares us. Suicide scares us. People that look so happy on the outside takes their life, and it leaves us with our heads spinning. How? Why? We have questions that we’ll never get the answers to.
This is why we have to check on people. We have to ask. We have to be the ones to reach out a helping hand, because a lot of people aren’t going to ask us– no matter how close we are. I still feel bad every time I tell a friend that I’m anxious or that I’m battling a depressive episode. I feel like a burden no matter how many times they tell me otherwise. Admitting that we need someone or help is one of the hardest things to do, and a lot of people just can’t bring themselves to.
I still battle with these things myself. I was fighting it the night before last, last night, and this morning. I’ll battle it again, just like many others will. The war is not over, but I am not done fighting either.
