If I killed myself today,What would people say?
Would they mourn the person they thought I was?
But she was so happy! So outgoing! So sweet!
But she did have a dark side…
I am the dark side, I don’t let you meet.
If they found me ruddy faced, coarse rope around my neck, would they say:
Well I don’t want to remember her this way. I want to remember her like she was yesterday! Her smile, her act.
Would they say: but her life was perfect?
Would they pretend I didn’t die of suicide? Would they use me for pity?
I wish they would say: she suffered, she was in pain. Her death was not in vain.
She is now dead as nothing else. More dead than air.
I wish they would they say: why didn’t we care more, love more, talk more, be more?
Because we aren’t more. This is what we are.
After I’ve died, don’t tell me what you would’ve done.