Once a dreamer, once a loser
Once a beggar on the street
Now with much power and money under his sleeve,
He forgets the humbleness in his self.
Now with everything he could buy,
He steps onto the back of poor people and let them die
He was blinded with money and material things.
He stole the only penny left for his expense.
He grew selfish and proud
Until one day he went bankrupt,
He roams outside the street begging for food and water,
Because of his rudeness, no one ever care.
Now dying, his one last wish as a beggar living in the street
That his body will be buried with a peanut seed underneath,
So when it will grow the people can eat
The fruit of his own greediness.
Once a dreamer, once a loser
Once a rich man, once a winner
Now an old man dying on the street
And a wish of a single peanut seed
To be planted on his grave.
People often misunderstood why depressed people took suicide. It wasn’t because we were weak and pathetic human beings. Suicidal people were more than just that. We were hero of our own suffering. In our lives, we were the giver, the most misunderstood and the most mistreated. You don’t know about our story. You just know, that people like us, kill ourselves because we give up on what life could gave to us, or because we were plainly stupid. You didn’t even know what we were going through. Even the cuts in our hands weren’t enough to tell you how we really feel. Everyone has a story to tell and it doesn’t mean that someone was depressed, they were already weak. The truth was we tried. There were always a point in our lives when we regret what we were doing and there were points in our lives when we told ourselves, “We can do it.” But because of some “inconsiderate” and “judgmental” human beings that instead lift us, put as even more into the depths of depression, and because of how the events was turning, we decided to push it through.
Depression wasn’t just because of stress, problems and anxiety. It also covers the emotional and mental state of the person. There were deeper reasons why we kill ourselves and one of those was you. If you wanted us to stop it, then give us a helping hand, support us and understand. We were just an imperfect human being like you. Fighting depression when everyone was contributing nothing was pretty hard. I can compare it to a cancer that once spread in the body, doctors have had harder time to cure it.
That’s how we see suicide. I repeat, we were not pathetic, nor stupid, nor weak. WE were just people with incurable disease. Please stop judging because it wasn’t your life to begin with. Who knows? Maybe at some point in your life you will feel the same? Who knows maybe you’ll understand how we really feel inside and who we really want to be.
Suicidal people weren’t crazy. We were mostly the people who were happy and easy to please with but at the same time, has the biggest regret. We regret how things turn into us and why we can never control it? Why every time the problem was solved, there were even more bigger problems to come. We don’t need your opinions and advises. WE need your ears to listen and eyes to open how “suicidal” people like me cope with idealistic standard of the society.
Across the border line of solitude,
Is the yearning of one soul’s cross.
Just like a sheep who lost her mob,
A woman’s heart without a love.
But the alteration is yet to come.
The coldness shall be filled with warm.
Ill-fated is now gone.
The sun is yet to shine.
Susurrus talisman come knocking to her door
Bringing her with enormous treasure
Her hopes comes in the highest soar
Serendipity you never expect for.
by vurdeM: http://bit.ly/2qlw5U6