I wrote "Storm" last week while struggling with suicidal ideation. Suicidal ideation is when a person has suicidal thoughts and ideas, and perhaps even a detailed plan, but are not planning on acting on those feelings.
Gray skies defeat me slowly
smothering out any life left within me
Ravens in the trees stare down at me
yet my mind tells me they’re vultures waiting to feed on my carcass
Sometimes I cannot trust my mind
My womb is empty
I have baby bottles stored away for someday
but they’re gathering dust hidden away under my bed
I’m getting scared that day will never come
when a child fills my womb
I’m lost in the thunderstorm now
My eyes make out demons
eating rotting human corpses in the near distance
Is this something else my mind is lying about?
Or are these horrible images real?
I stare transfixed at one,
until she turns toward me, bloody lips grinning
My head hurts
There’s a buzzing in my ears
Suddenly I find what I’m looking for,
the edge of the plateau
I make one last desperate plea to myself
Is there anything left that makes living worth it?
I already know the answer
Head back, clothes soaked, a guttural scream
Escapes my lips, and I fly
to the desert floor
Soaring to the godless ending