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Array ( [sid] => 56155 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The thistles of comfort. [time] => 2004-07-14 12:20:38 [hometext] => When I’m feeling low I try to stay positively so I’ll feel better but often there’s nothing in my head to make me feel better so i think about dieing or escaping. Those are my thistles, but alas, they are also my comfort… they’re my way out. please read. [bodytext] => Sitting at some window,
Looking down at the ground.
Knowing if I jumped I’d be smashed to pieces,
Long before I’d be found.
Knowing I could die, from smashing open my head.
Or just a loss of blood from coughing up some red.

I could die from over does. I could fall from the sky.
I could jump off a bridge, and that way die.
I could do my wrists in, or hang my-self with a rope.
I could take an overdose, off a simple thing like dope…

Those hazy thoughts have just become clear.
I don’t like this! So why am I still here?
It would be enough, for me to run away,
Only thing is, I’ll be brought back again.
And I can’t hack, facing that pain.
When I’m dumped back at home, pushed into my stain.
And I can’t see then point in strong effort.
When I only have the “Thistles of Comfort”.

[comments] => 4 [counter] => 174 [topic] => 36 [informant] => deathdrop [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Suicide )

The thistles of comfort.

Contributed by deathdrop on Wednesday, 14th July 2004 @ 12:20:38 PM in AEST
Topic: Suicide

Sitting at some window,
Looking down at the ground.
Knowing if I jumped I’d be smashed to pieces,
Long before I’d be found.
Knowing I could die, from smashing open my head.
Or just a loss of blood from coughing up some red.

I could die from over does. I could fall from the sky.
I could jump off a bridge, and that way die.
I could do my wrists in, or hang my-self with a rope.
I could take an overdose, off a simple thing like dope…

Those hazy thoughts have just become clear.
I don’t like this! So why am I still here?
It would be enough, for me to run away,
Only thing is, I’ll be brought back again.
And I can’t hack, facing that pain.
When I’m dumped back at home, pushed into my stain.
And I can’t see then point in strong effort.
When I only have the “Thistles of Comfort”.

Copyright Â© deathdrop ... [ 2004-07-14 12:20:38]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: The thistles of comfort. (User Rating: 1 )
by pixie on Wednesday, 14th July 2004 @ 12:23:11 PM AEST
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this is how I am feeling at the moment. everything is crashing around me...... you are not alone,

great write btw

pixie xx

Re: The thistles of comfort. (User Rating: 1 )
by mysterious15 on Wednesday, 14th July 2004 @ 03:10:03 PM AEST
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this poem is awesome. i often question why i'm still here and i thought of the same reasons of what i could do to commit suicide. thank you for writing this poem. it was really really good:) write more

:mysterious15:

Re: The thistles of comfort. (User Rating: 1 )
by Trisha on Thursday, 15th July 2004 @ 03:33:00 PM AEST
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Wow I Felt Like This Onces Everything Around Me

Re: The thistles of comfort. (User Rating: 1 )
by wray on Saturday, 17th July 2004 @ 10:09:23 AM AEST
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Interesting metaphor of thistles - I see them as something protecting you against further pain (when, as you say, there's nothing in your head, the wanting to die/escape is a comfort) and yet in themselves they're not natural, and so represent the wrongness of your suicidal feelings. Hmm twisted explanation. But however you meant the image to be interpreted, it's still pretty interesting.

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