Perspective Of My Dad. Written throughout the 4th. Suicide trigger-

 Perspective Of My Dad

2/04/2020

I regress into these sessions of suicide and depression

playing movies in my mind of what exactly my death is

staring in the mirror and begging all these questions

"what would dad do"

actually, what would dad do...

Im sorry for this image that im gonna describe and paint

but this is genuinely something that lurks inside my brain

so follow along and imagine this today

Your son is upstairs playing games

happy, living day by day

he comes down every now and then

to say hello and hug and when

he goes back up to play his games

you get this feeling in your gut

something's wrong so you get up

to his stairs, stand at the bottom

say his name, get no response

yell his name and silence stays

you panic now, what is wrong

you get to see it... your dead son

his wrist is slit and bloods all gone

he finally sang his final song

his face is pale, death prevails

you rush on over to try and save

but its to late, you're to blame

"what did I do" "why'd he do this"

"was it my fault he went through this"

if only this, if only that

what I would do to get my son back

you weep, you sob

you sit and pray

16 years, the end of days

a precious soul and innocent heart

gone like that, you're torn apart

now the story doesn't end

time only continues

my thoughts and this image

has many many more views

I digress

so here's the rest

You hold the fresh corpse of your kid

whats the point of what he did

you see no use, your son is gone

you join him there, your final song

you grab the blade

you slit your wrist

your eyes roll back

unconscious bliss

the blood is faint, your in and out

you're finally free and the pain is gone with this

your blood soaked shirt

more despair

two fresh bodies, suicide wins

It's finally over, washed your sins

several notes

I have to say

A) I had to relive the wretched memory

I had to type and write the stuff I see

B) thats not the first time I've had thoughts like this

It's common actually

a few times a week

it gets so back

it leaves me weak

my hands will hurt

my breathing gets difficult

but I keep it to myself

in case I get ridiculed

I didn't mean to tell that story

I agree, its pretty gory

but thats my mind

now you see it

all I ask

dont treat me different