STOP Teen Suicide Poem

Self-Hate And Suicidal Thoughts

Hey guys, as a poet I like going by Shattered Mirror, my pen name. This poem is the reflection of the battles I have in my mind against self-hate and the temptation of suicide. I used to cut, and many times I almost ended it. I still struggle with self-hate and suicidal thoughts. Poetry has been the best outlet I've ever found in the arts. In my poem, "this song" is what I call my best friend. It comes from This Song Saved My Life by Simple Plan, which is a special song between him and I.

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Wretched Monster

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Published: September 10, 2017

What should I say, how should I feel?
Wretched Monster, tell me what's real.
Can you not see you're causing problems?
No matter what you do, you can't solve them.

I stare into your eyes; you stare back at me.
I hate you and love you; I want to be free.
You hold me captive, Wretched Monster, why?
I tear up, but you tell me not to cry.

Wretched Monster, you say I'm nothing.
You leave me in the dark, screaming and cussing.
You beat me down every day without fail,
But I just turn my pain into a tale.

Just turn it into art; that'll fix things.
Wretched Monster, I'm a puppet on strings.
I know you hate me, but I know you're always there.
I look into the mirror and I know that you care.

I want to escape you, but I know what that means.
I'll escape everyone else and leave everything.
I'll grab a blade and my life will be done.
Wretched Monster, that's tempting, but I'll always think of my one.

You ask me what I mean when I think of my one.
I mean my one reason to keep moving on.
I think of "this song;" I think of his pain.
"This song" is my one reason to keep being brave.

"This song" gave me life when you had none to give.
"This song" hugged me tight and told me to live.
Wretched Monster, I love you, but I can't quit.
I'm sorry I disappoint you, but your voice can't win.

I try to smile back even though you point and jeer.
I try not to hate when I see you in the mirror.
I know you're just trying to get through this life,
But I can't live with you when you give me a knife.

Yet I can't let you go, Wretched Monster, you're me.
I can't give you up and continue to breathe.
So let me be happy, and stay far behind.
Stay out of the mirror and out of my mind.

What should I say? How should I feel?
Wretched Monster, you can't tell me what's real.
Because of "this song," I know that you lie.
"This song," unlike you, thanks God I'm alive.

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