Posted in Poetry

I am not your voice

Writer note:

I wrote this when I was told a friend was considering that his suicide would make some point.  He thought we could be his voice after his death to tell his story.  His suicide means he is dead.  Why can he not see that?


Suicide is not a statement

It is not a semi colon

It is a full stop

The end



Suicide does not make a point

It’s not an exclamation mark

There will be no question mark

Its over, you are dead, hope is dead


Don’t ask me to be your voice

That died with you

I won’t represent your life

If you won’t do the same


Suicide means you are dead

Full stop, end of discussion

It is not glorious or cowardly

It is simply being dead







I was 46 years old when I begun this blog, female and married with a house full of cats (7). My past is littered with the impact of events that happened when I was a teen. Two loves of my life have been nursing and studying. I just completed my Master of Arts: Media Studies endorsement. My blog will be about the things I think about, that might be better served being written rather than squirreled away in my mind festering. It is the meanderings of my mind as I seek to define myself and my world.

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