Apostrophe of Depression

Written on 5-25-10

There is a silence on this darkened path,

There is slight motion in the saddened shadows,

There is no one alive nor dead on this lonesome road,

Near a window, the cries of people echo in an almost chant:

There is help, you are not alone,

And now there is an unchanging look upon thy face, and this is taken in

For now who are below, now see what they have done

With there all so wise words have done,

Is neither helped or diminished the majority of this problem.

Go on, just do it, the faster the sooner,

In a heartbeat, everything will be over;

Not here, not gone; --but in a strait of life and death

The lurking soul deceased, but still remain

The pain and saddened life this one create

The life that could of changed from bad to good,

But taking that into a thought of mind

A sudden pause came up upon the moment

And a single crystal tear pour from thy eye.

Leaning back and forth, unsure what move

To make within this spur-of-moments pass

To go forth will end in such a tragedy

But to live is such a tragic end itself

Dying now will make life anew

But living let die another day

Should there be a plunging death

Or just another back away?

Undecided for the now.

Thinking, just thinking:

Should this be the last,

That last of all misery,

Or should I live to speak another day?

O woe is this wretched time

For now, in this moment, shall be choosing

Life or death, or slowly die inside

As a heavy sigh comes from within the darkened soul

This is remains, the single question, truly of a lifetime.

Shutting the window, not yet decided

Not today, or maybe in an hour, maybe not at all

But there many ways to leave and to stay

To live it out, or become the Earth’s prey

To stay with uncaring souls, or live to die alone

The depression will kill eventually

But is it soon enough?

Too soon, too far to know

Still a throbbing question.

At the sudden choice to plummet to the sidewalk below

Could be as fast as tying a shoe, or picking a sprig of lavender

But could take longer if not landing right

Could just break bones, maybe nothing

Or just a few bruises at least, at all

Just count down from 10... 9.... 8 and finally hitting 1

Just jump, or not, so unfair at this vulnerable, willing moment

Or if to count up: --1... 2....3 and then approaching 10

All of this is gone, possibly lived another life.

As all these thoughts run through and through again,

One still remains upon the outer regions of the mind:

What will happen after all of the commotion?

Looking once again outside the window

The decision is made, and taking final steps

Walking out on the fire escape, talking one final breath

The speaking of last words:

Fie, doth this life truly live or hath death taken a ride?

For 26 years young, has felt an aging presence the while

And as these words are spoken, thy took the life-taking plunge

From the 7^th story off this landing attached to brick

But landing not on concrete, but fabric.

Cries and screams of relief come from the surrounding

But cries of torture come from deep heart and soul

But no one hears these faithless cries

For death upon impact was the case

But unknown until someone checked the pulse

Which made a beat of still and lifeless

Not beating with life and hope

The pulse was never truly there

But somehow had more to let go.