South Pasadena, CA
This poem was written by my friend Sal Resendez. I apologize if it is to vivid. If so, feel free to take it off.
Depressions are my routine every single day,
I try to let them get to me, but they don't go away.
Why must this infection control how I live my life?
The vivid thoughts of my wrists being slashed with a knife.
Blood flowing down. The infection will release
The only cure I can think of…Myself deceased.
Will I grow out of this? I wish I can say,
Thinking should I bite a bullet to make it all go away.
Thoughts of my family crying in sorrow,
Wishing they could see my face when they wake up tomorrow.
Who knows what the future has in store for me,
I could die today, in a year, or possibly three.
The depressions that I face last 23 and a half-hours a day,
My life is now gone, in a casket I lay.
Family still in mourning. It is now tomorrow.
Now as a lost soul, I feel an infinite sorrow.
Why did I do this to the one's I hold so dear?
Wishing I could grasp to one of them, and hold on for a thousand years.
If only I hadn't have listened to the whispers in my ears.
The sorrowful thoughts, and my greatest fears.
Demons telling me to Diminish my soul.
I wish I wouldn't have listened, but I lost control.
So those of you that are struggling with these devils,
Stomp them down, and bring them to your level.
Then begin to take control of your life,
Death is not the ticket so put away the knife.
Learn a lesson from someone, who has experienced it all,
And don't make a big deal out of something so small.
If you want to walk with God, you've got to go His way!