Decisions

2 Comments

Tags:
  • Suicide
    • ,
  • Pai

    Poem Commentary

    I think this is a universal question we all wrestle with at some point in our lives.  What's important is whether or not we act on the feelings.

    Decisions
    Decisions

    I cannot decide if living is life
    It all could be over, a cut of a knife
    Some days full of pain, despair, agony
    Cause me to wonder, "do I want to be me?"

    Is my life worth living or is it just pain?
    Am I so abnormal with death on my brain?
    I cannot decide. "they" say I should hope
    I smile and pretend, it's my way to cope

    So much has gone wrong in this life of mine
    I don't mean to whimper, complain or to whine
    But I think there's more to living than life
    Can happiness come, replacing this strife?

    So pills are prescribed by doctors I've met
    Everyone has the "solution," and yet
    I wake up each day with questions...with doubt
    Is this life worth living, or do I want out?

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    monkyntz commented on Decisions

    11-24-2009

    very good , "if life is living" what a great line a subject i'm sure most of us can relate to don't give up the fight.
    Reply to Comment

    Writer1

    11/25/2009

    May be a universal understanding amongst us all. Written about in so many ways, so many times. Thx, as always, for your comments!

    soulwriter commented on Decisions

    11-23-2009

    In and out most of us go, up and down, side to side - life is not easy but in the beginning and in the end we must be thankful for what we have - there is always something down inside that can help us find a ray of sunlight in the dark pouring rain. Well expressed! Live STRONG and write write write - what a wonderful release that allows us to live in other universes and to see many views.... we have the power to create!!!
    Reply to Comment

    Writer1

    11/24/2009

    Your words pretty much TRUMPED mine! :) Thank you for the comment..and for the amazing encouragement!

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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