Content Warning: This poem describes thoughts of self-harm and suicide.
You can keep me on the pills. I’ve never thought of killing myself.
I’ve never thought of killing myself,
even though the cement below my balcony
is squared like a chess board
and each open dumpster
welcomes me like an inviting target.
You can keep me on the pills; I’ve never thought of killing myself.
But I have considered the sound of the impact,
my rippling clothes
as I drop directly down,
the reaction of my parents,
the reaction of anyone seeing my flight and the cleanup crew.
I don’t think as much about the cleanup crew
since I don’t know them.
You can keep me on the pills because
it won’t matter if I kill myself.
I’d rather drown from over-watering
than wilt away dryly;
overdose than die from withdrawal;
bang than fizzle.
See, the pills you give me numb my pain,
and so if they’re giving me life like that,
I feel they have every right
to take it as well.