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Sleepless with the Suicides

Oct 25, 2012 - 2 comments



chronic illnesses


Multiple Sclerosis



It's there in the back of my mind
sincerest, hopeful thoughts; sweet suicide.
In the dreamless nights' breaking dawn
as I sup on pills to achieve a yawn
I feel the urge, the sudden doubts
I start to cry, I want to shout.

I call the doctors, nurses, joints
but none of them get my point;
I want it over, I can't see a way out
I've counted all the sheep you can count.
I want it over, so I start to pray
but God's out-of-office until Sunday.

My heart is breaking, barely there
a spot of pain remains, a single care
for those that I would leave behind
the mess they'd have, the mess that's mine.
But I want out! Please, any way...
please God, please, but He won't say.

So I call a number, found on the net
my list ditch effort, my final bet...
and I tell that girl, in ringing tones
"Please, do not hang up the phone."
"I need you to listen, please believe,
I need you to hear me, I need you to see."

"I was diagnosed with an incurable disease,"
"and I need some help, so tell me, please,"
"tell me that's unfair, tell me it's not right,"
"tell me that this isn't my last and final night."
"I need someone to speak the way I need to hear."
"I hope you understand through all these falling tears."

And she's quiet, and she's nice, after all, it's what she does
she listens to the questions "Why?" and she tells you "Because."
And she finally agrees, she says what the doctors won't
she says that it's unfair, and she asks you "Please, don't,"
"Don't hurt yourself, don't give up, call and find a solution."
"I can't promise you a happy ending, I can't give you retribution."
"But I think you need to see someone, to tell them what you've told me."
"And I'd encourage you, always and ever, always Believe."

And they're words I know. That I remember.
A promise to God, forever and ever.
And I cry, and she listens, because that's "what I do."
and I tell her that I'm sorry, she tells me that she knew.
And I say "I don't know if there are any more good tomorrows."
And she says "No one knows" and she says there are more sorrows.

But she doesn't want me to give up, not now, at least, not tonight
it's like she somehow knows that it was always in me to fight.
But sometimes, you need someone to say
"It's not fair, and it may not be okay."
And it's sometimes good, when they don't try
to promise you everything, no pretending, no lie.

And I'm tired, and I'm sore, and I'm a weak, weak soul,
it seems all my sins are come to call, each one black as coal.
And I keep praying in hopes of some miracle down the way
I keep looking for someone else to say
"It's not fair. It might be your fault. It may not be okay...
but tomorrow, there's a chance, tomorrow's another day."

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751951 tn?1406632863
by PastorDan, Oct 25, 2012
I will agree with the conclusion, as you say you want someone to say, tomorrow's another day.

I don't know what's wrong with me, either.  I know that your composition posted minutes ago shows a tremendous talent as well as insight.  I know that it's not fair, it's not right, and I can say with some confidence that the consequences of stuff we do will impact others, besides the harm or benefit we might bring upon ourselves.  We live in a world, you realize, that does not follow the instructions of its' Maker.  Consequences build up, multiply one another, and erupt into collateral damage wherever and whenever they might.

I believe that He will, one day, set it all aright.

I remember the day I learned that my mother had an incurable disease, and that this disease was thought to "possibly" run in some families under conditions that sounded uncomfortably like our own.  I was a teenager, I am now 55, and none of my siblings has shown signs of that same disease, which is still seen as incurable, even though there are some symptomatic treatments that sometimes help some people with some aspects of the disease.  I thought, back then, that a cure might be found by the time I might need it.  Well, I still hope, but I have accepted that I might have been killed in the car wreck this past January, or died of internal bleeding en route to the hospital before my 1987 kidney surgery, and that there is a far greater chance that I could develop cancer (like Dad did) than either Alzheimer's (the early-onset form, like Mom) or MS, which is what I suspect and why I am here.

There's a chance, there's hope, and today is another day.  Make the best of it.  You are here for a reason.

Gotta fly.  Peace & blessings.

6682819 tn?1383708162
by JerrieLynn, Nov 05, 2013
Dear SeranishRyen
i just registered so i could comment here...
Thank you for sharing your feelings in such an open honest way...
i too release emotion ... that frankly needs it... through written word...
this is lovely and painful ...
honest and frank expression that made me smile and cry in understanding...
God Bless you sweetie

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