Suicide Under The Willow Tree Poem, by Kol Zhang, at My poetic side

Anxiety deeply lodged in my throat as I collapsed onto my bed, my body feeling stabbed over and over again, I felt light-headed

What feared me most was I didn't fear the end, I hoped it was near but really it was the last thing I wished I would ever hope for

Woken up in a pool of oozing vomit and wide eyes in the pitch black, knowing I'd waken up when my heart ached to never again, with a burning throat

Choking back the tears I'd run out of, everything was hardly a blur when I saw the bright white lights of the hospital

My reflection staring back at me in the bathroom mirror, dark eye bags and wide eyes that stretched from top to bottom

My eyes, my throat, my head, it was a fire that even the strongest of regret couldn't put out.

Is it selfish that I didn't feel selfish? Wanting to die wasn't enough. I wouldn't have to live with that guilt, of course I knew I was selfish.

That didn't stop the guilt from swallowing me from head to toe, engulfing me in what I thought was what would make everyone feel better

Pitying eyes sharper than withering blades of grass cut through me stare and stare and stare in a place with too many insane bright lights

They called me insane, they kept me inside a room with nothing sharp, nothing dangerous other than my thoughts and emotions

I can't think back to lying on that cold stiff hospital bed without breaking into panic and sweat. The psychiatric ward owns me. They know I rely

Is it enough that I'm living for a girl I see my demons in? Demons that eat us alive, demons that nobody sees with the naked eye

But maybe the demons aren't the villains, our own minds will always be, and the mental health system just is shit at keeping us alive

I would be free, if my demons and my mind let me free. But O willow tree, you have my shrivelled heart and no more.

Suicide Under The Willow Tree