The wrong type of pill

This is a poem for anyone affected by suicide…

In the dark of night, in the depths of despair
Would anyone notice if I just wasn’t there?
Would I be missed does anyone care?

Distressed, with too many thoughts in my head
I needed help but I just curled up instead
Too ashamed to pick up the phone
Anxious, overwhelmed and so very alone

Tired exhausted, I checked out for the last time
I woke up in hospital in my arm was a line
I was told I was silly and lucky not to be dead
With silent tears I forced on a smile instead

I had failed to die, I had just made myself ill
I couldn’t even get that right, I took the wrong pills

I am grateful that for once that I didn’t get it right
That dark cold tragic bleak December night

When someone is ill and close to the edge
Don’t tell them they are lucky they are not dead
Attention seeking those words, yes they were cruely said
Oh and  to make it worse she clearly a little sick in the head.

Recovery was slow but I found someone to understand
With the kindest eyes I felt her take my hand

The silence broke, the damn could no longer hold
My story it slowly started to unfold

Suicide happens when all hope is gone
When you just don’t have the strength to carry on

With the right support I came back from the brink
I got kindness understanding and was asked what I think

Today I am glad I am still alive, happy and well
For many there stories, they sadly don’t get to tell
I am thankful that getting it wrong was so right
That I didn’t check out in the dead of the night

The ripples from suicide spread far and wide
Don’t let shame silence you and force you to hide

I promise no platitudes to make your heart sink
and I will listen and believe what you tell me you think

With love to all those affected by suicide