The Suicide Room

White walls. Black and grey stripes. Freshly painted, I can still smell the chemicals in the frozen air. Frosty ice covered chairs, aligned in perfect rows. Resembles an ariport terminal, filled wall to wall with panic struck people. Expressions of confusion and fear lie on their faces. Some soaked in blood. Some still gripping the blade. Second guessing if they made the right decision. Silence dominates the room. Everyone's afraid to more, not sure what to expect. Whispers in the corner of your mind, of why they did it, every time you make eye contact. Twelve year girl, "Daddy played naughty games. I didn't like when he touched me." Single mother, "I watched my daughter burn. The pictures wouldn't go away. I couldn't stand the silence and guilt anymore." Misunderstood teen, "I always felt so empty. They never listened. I was teaching them a lesson." All the voices echoing. Most wishing to escape to a magical land, where they could be happy. Instead of a world with dull grey skies. The rest pleading for an end to the madness. Life without an afterlife. No more pain. Here in this room, there's only an entrance. The clock counts down to nothingness. No compassion here. No excuses. Criminal. This is the room for your punishment. Selfish fools couldn't handle it. Or did fate doom you from the start? Either way, you're stuck here now. Drowning in shadows of emptiness. Replaying the horrors that you couldn't handle. God has a bad side and he likes to play games. Flood the room with black ink. Nothing can be undone. Breathing singes your lungs. Tides of blood push you under and there's nothing to grip. The room is becoming more crowded. Tortured screams dance in circles through air. Tears are poison. Get used to it. You're trapped in the suicide room.this is not like my other stuff. i used to have nightmares about this. Written January 24th, 2002 © on Jan 24 2002 03:27 AM PST   0 • 10