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I wrote this one day whilst in a low mood.


Img_4002by Robbie Done23 Jun 2014

This morning I awoke to the reality of the hand I have been dealt

The purity of it's darkest form is upon me, my life is in the hands of chance and the odds of an unlucky man

With the last coin in my worn pocket I reached in to see the value, to my dismay it was copper in colour, for if it had been gold or silver I would have not been pushed into the black hole in my mind and think the thoughts of a suicidal tramp

With the coin firmly placed upon my thumb the thoughts of heads or tails run through my head, around and around in a carousel of all the failures and successes in my life, heads to live and tails to die

Flick, tumble, tumble catch

Why did I let it come to this, a point in my life where I gamble to live one more day and to feel the void of all that a lucky man has

Is it my fault I am at this crossroads of self harm of the ultimate form?

If for once I had changed my human nature and said no to helping others and took refuge in self preservation I may not be about to lift up my hand and see what fate has in store for me

As I lift my hand the thoughts of how to kill myself run through my head, my options are cut short, I have a hosepipe but no car, my prescription is low and I don't have enough pills, I have a rafter but no rope

My fingers raise one by one, my body tenses, the rim of the coin is now exposed, I pause and reflect upon time gone by and think of the prospects I have if I see the Queen of the United Kingdoms head face skywards

I raise my hand and close my eyes, will it spell live or time to die, now I see it, clear as day, there was only ever going to be the one way

So the death has been dealt the options are slim, how do I do it without the right tools, jump from a window, walk in front of a bus?

As I stand in my kitchen with the last cigarette in my hand, made out of once smoked dog ends, I pause and look around me as to all I have to my name, I open the fridge and see no food only cough medicine and ketchup, I look in the cupboards and find tin foil and stale croutons, I looked in desperation to see if there was a morsel to live for and found nothing, my soul is not the only emptiness in my life.

I take a deep breath and look to the heavens, will my death release me from this bondage of emptiness, will I find the empathy that I craved in life

The time has come to call for help, I lift the receiver and hear the constant tone of a dysfunctional line, if only I had paid the bill it could have saved my life

I'll take a chair to my room, throw my bed from a foots reach, I now stand at my bedroom door, the focal point is a rickety chair, I stand upon the chair and punch a hole in the ceiling and expose the beam, I look to the corner of my room and my sad eyes focus on the belt that kept my jeans aloft

All is ready and is set, the belt adorns my throat tight, I am stood on the chair hoping for relief from this existence and not a life

The chair now stands between me and the escape of my life, I kick the chair and start to choke, under my weight my eyes feel like they are going to pop out, I cough and gargle the remaining saliva in my mouth, I now feel the loss of conciseness beginning to take me from this dreadful excuse of a life to who knows what

Kick, kick I'm coming around, am I on the other side already?

I open my eyes and see a black hole, I think to myself "this is the tunnel to the other side" I cough and choke, the tears stream from my eyes and I begin to focus, it's no tunnel, it is the hole in my ceiling

The leather noose had given way, I now have a 3rd dimension engraved within my damaged mind, today is a turning point in my life, again I will as always hide this experience of my life from the ones I love and adorn the buckle mark and smile with false hope to live another day.