|Posted on August 20, 2019 at 1:10 AM|
“I Could D;e Tomorrow”
Poem written by: Jim R. Irion
People who do not know what lies
behind these dull brown eyes.
Too preoccupied with your lives,
nor the time to ask me why.
Unfamiliar with mental health.
Inexperienced with how to help.
It's some of those who know better
that have made life a living hell.
People who have been intolerant
of free speech and opinion
have claimed to be anti-stigma,
but exclude me from their agenda.
"Stuff your "all due respect," Jim",
followed by blocked on Facebook.
Oh what bigotry I have been gifted
for just a single election vote.
People who identify as LGBT
have been encouraged to hate me.
Sympathy for his cancer scare.
Let me know what the tests show.
"Message me, say one bad word...
I will contact the law" (on you).
A threat for being compassionate?
He is popular and protected.
I hope he has no cancer, though.
Even if he punches me again in public.
I pitched my anti-bullying article
to another who blocked me on Facebook.
"im not sure this is of any interest
to anyone in the group".
Such ignorance from an LGBT member
bullied on a bus three years ago.
People who are so deeply consumed
by pettiness and bigotry...
What were those subtle "signs" again?
The ones many are late to see?
This intolerance, anger, and hypocrisy
is inexcusable if you ask me.
After all I could die tomorrow,
and would be missed by so many.
Not missed like that. I'm sorry.
As if I do not exist at all.
A cherished several, maybe fifty
if I am lucky and likeable,
would actually miss me when I'm gone.
More than I may ever truly know.
Bless your hearts. I love you all!
You know exactly who you are.
So, this could be a suicide note
to end my pathetic life.
It could easily be one day to live
before I die from a weakened heart.
What if I suffered through addiction,
or struggled with cancer?
I learned from Martin Luther King Jr.
Judge by content of character.
My Dad once taught me:
do not throw stones in someone's path.
One thing I learned from suicide:
all lives matter no matter what.
Can this world still be saved?
Just re-read this poetry.
Share it with those who hate you,
because I care about them too.
I've never believed in my future,
and in fact I still don't.
I am doing what I believe I must do.
I will make it. I have to.
I might not know how to save myself.
If there is a single breath in me
I will not give up on th;s.
Neither will I give up on you.