Years of spirited struggle reduced to nought.
Hours of contemplation precede,
Seconds lasting eternity;
As life-long dreams
conclude into frivolousness.

There was a voice somewhere
in the distance;
I don’t remember where,
or who it was;
it was comforting, somewhat.

No flashes of light, like they say,
neither darkness.
No flashes whatsoever.
Plain sordid reality;
just hits you like concrete.

Maybe it happened too fast
or it took forever,
I don’t remember.
All of life happens to you for a moment
and suddenly death takes you away.

Hope kept me going far too long
but not long enough,
it now seemed.
“At one point the color fades,
it was always on my glasses anyway.”

What was it that I set out to do?
Was there ever a meaning
that I had missed?
Then it dawned upon me just when,
I thought it had faded away.

Struggle has no intrinsic value on its own.
Neither does achievement,
no matter how grand.
Failure is far too criticized by all;
While success is what leaves you weakened.

The horizon raced above to meet the sky.
The night was beautiful.
Blaring horns in the traffic below,
Rushed into my ears like water;
rushing into a sinking ship.

It was to be all over.
I had acted too fast;
Or maybe too slow.
One could argue that this ending,
had been long overdue.

Had I a moment more to think,
To attach value to something,
someone worth living for;
Maybe I could have found some value,
in going on.

A faint voice called out my name.
I don’t know who it was,
but I replied.
I don’t know what it was,
but I said something.

Faint murmurs all around.
Many different voices;
by the hundreds.
Like a large prayer meeting,
Gathered to mourn.

Are you sure?
I found asking myself.
Standing amidst a faceless crowd.
Disembodied and Scattered;
All over the place.

“I don’t know,
would that make a difference?”
I murmured to myself,
as I stepped off the rail
back to the other side.

© Jay Kaushal

11 thoughts on “Suicide Note

    1. Quite unabashedly..I seriously think so too. I think my earlier poems were a lot better as poems from a literary point of view. Now I am more of a blogger-poet exploring.. Experimenting..I spent hours on these ones fixing the meters and arranging the syllables. Thank you for your kind words. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Not to insult your latest work, but wow, these are really freaking amazing Jay. It’s such a shame you were new then so you didn’t have the right amount of audience to appreciate them. Like these are freaking epic. Your time will come, one day, Jay.. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Thanks Ev. This means a lot. And I know what you mean. Haha the beauty of your statement though is you quoting a title of my poem for appreciating how good my old poems are. Wow. To have even one reader like you I think at least I didn’t live in vain even if I died today. I have created something of value at least. That is also the state of mind these poems flew from. I think I need more pain to ever write like this again. But I don’t think that that’s possible. ( I dont think I could take it this time. I won’t step back to write about it, I’ll just fuckin jump. :P) But it’s like Rumi said: ” The wound is the point where the light enters the body.”

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Or like Leonard Cohen has said, ‘There’s a crack in everything, that’s how the light get’s in.’ We write first of all for ourselves I think. Even if there were no writers, your writing means you getting the emotions out, letting the pain free, and that’s a victory in itself. Keep it up 💪

        Liked by 1 person

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