Ribbons: A Random Assortment of Poetry

Left or Right

Would I have swung left or right?

Would I have even done it right?

Would I have had time to write it down?

My suicides were imaginary;

I only saw the little pool of pills

And my lifeless body floating on the carpet

Whenever someone would scream,

Whenever someone thrashed their feet upstairs,

Whenever someone threw a bottle at the wall, 

But it would never happen;

Even as my life destroyed me from the inside

There would be no way I'd leave so easily 

Not without saying what I have to say,

Not without making my pain aware,

Not without you knowing what my problem is. 

Instead I on the inside would kill

For some break, some little quietness

And for everyone to shut the fuck up: 

Like I care that your childhood was terrible,

Like I understand the situation better than you,

Like I should have to hear about it in burped sentences. 

Where is your sense of life?

Even I know about the lights

That metaphorically shine through our darknesses, 

Yet there you are stupid and unintelligible,

Yet there you are emotional with snot on your face,

Yet there you are older than me and clueless, 

And here I am tired of being the brunt of it all;

I've been able to move passed the memories but sometimes

I still wonder would I swing left or right?