It’s Sunday morning as I peer out my window into the morning sky

I sense that something is off as I see crowds of people pass me by

A funeral is being held only miles away

In the distance I see a casket where a lifeless body must lay

This person was loved that I can tell 

Tear streaked faces gather awaiting the sound of the church bell

This person was loved, that I can tell

There are at least 50 people whose faces all look like they’ve been through hell

I see a glimpse of a girl who is made to look her best

I realize this is the outfit she will forever wear as she’s being laid down to rest 

This person was loved, that I can tell

People are telling countless stories that cause my eyes to start to swell.

Curiosity has the best of me and I start to feel brave 

No one seems to notice as I head towards her grave

This girl is loved, she must be.
When I look into the grave I start to cry for now I can see. I was loved but now it’s too late because the face that stares back belongs to me

I wrote this poem for suicide awareness. Anxiety and depression affects more than half of the people who walk this earth. Suicide is something that is permanent, so there is always one thing you need to remember; you are loved! 

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