Death Is Freedom
by Laura Via
Monday, January 12, 2004
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It starts as a whisper in the
back of the mind …
… gnawing …
Eating away, plaguing the
thoughts slowly until you
do not know what is real
and what isn’t, setting in …
… paranoia …
It is voice grows louder,
berating you until no more
can be withstood. Hair pulling
hatred and loathing, self seething
anger rips through the flesh
until death is longed for.
… it calls from the depths of
You are called childish by family,
for they do not understand for the
voice isn’t always in your head.
That voice is the man who married
you and he keeps his volleys of
putridness falling upon your ears
until the voices in your head are
shouting at one another.
Make them shut up!
Perhaps the only way to end it all,
is for me to perish into darkness.
The there will be blessed silence.
I thought he loved me, he married
me after all. Does he know what
I am nothing … I am feeble.
… stupid …
I am unstable, deserving of nothing!
This pain is my punishment for the
troubles I create. I deserve death.
You’re childish, grow up!
You can write, but you spend
too much time on the computer!
Pinko commie punk!
Walking dead … you’re dead!
Make them stop please! Years
of voices compiling upon one
another until one day I fear I
just may snap.
The laughter is over … none of
this is funny any more. Please,
just leave me alone. Let me be
me, I’m not a fucking light switch!
I hate what I am, I hate myself.
I used to love myself, that wasn’t too
long ago but the voices are coming
back and are taking over. Too much
pain, too much anger, too much hate.
I am a shadow now …
I need out of here …
… I must be free of these bonds …
… death is freedom.
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|Reviewed by Handsum Hart
|Whether or not death is freedom, who knows.
This is a very gripping poem Laura. I started to say much more, but not knowing if this is nonfiction or fiction. I decided not to. If this is real, then you need help and a new environment and I hope you get it.
peace and happiness to you Lady Laura