Is suicide the ultimate in selfishness,
or is a person left without a choice?
When they get so sick—
hitting bottom, and no one can help.
I tend to think about the family,
who has to clean all that shit up.
No matter how well-intentioned you are,
the kids aren’t going to understand
why you “couldn’t do it anymore”
and jumped into the lake, off the bridge,
off the building, off the cliff,
into the fire, or swerved to hit the semi.
You’re going to fuck them up for life.
But in your mind,
you were going to do that anyway—
at least now, it’s less active,
more in their imaginations.
Is a choice something you can feel?
Is a choice real?
Can you blame anyone?
Maybe you should just thank God
the violence turned inward,
they didn’t hurt other people.
Or maybe it isn’t violence,
it’s just a mistake.