What Did I Do?

 

At home I sit, all alone

A deathly silence, I’m on my own.

I’m going away, and I won’t return.

I have it here with me, my weapon of choice,

I’ve finished my letter to say what I’ve done.

I’m leaving it here, for my family to find,

Once I have gone, but no one will care.

 

So now I take up my gun,

And hold it firmly in my hand.

“Is there anything left,

Something I don’t know,

What can make me stop now,

Make me stay here with my life?”

 

Reflecting is done, now I’m going away,

I’ve decided that now, so I hold up my gun.

I put it up to my head, slowly I count,

One, two, and then, three.

 

Next thing that I see is my mom coming in,

She sees me, my body, lying on my bed.

My note, just for her, she takes, now she’s read,

That I felt unloved, pushed away, out of place,

But what’s that I see? Tears from her eyes running down her dear face.

 

I walk over to her to try to make her feel glad,

But I can’t even touch her, and she can’t see that I’m right there,

I’m right there, in front of her face,

I shout to her, call her, but then she just leaves,

I am so confused, why didn’t she see?

That I was right there all of the time.

 

The next couple of days were all just a blur,

People coming and going, and all of them sad.

Then they took me away, put me into a box,

People come and they look down at me and they cry.

I try to get through to them, talk to them, something!

But none of it works, I just can’t be heard.

 

And then the last day, I finally see,

I am dead, they are all crying for me.

I look into the box, and I see me lying there,

I really am dead, I have ended my life.

  

So I leave that room ready to go, but wait, there’s another,

I walk inside, people filling the hall,

And there’s my family up-front, all crying, they’re so sad,

And Mother at the stand, tears streaming down her poor face,

Telling of all the things we’ve done, wow, it wasn’t a waste!

My life, that I thought was just full of hate,

It’s so full of love, what have I done?

 

And then someone comes up to me and he say’s

“Come with me now son, it is time that we go”

“No, send me back, it just can’t end this way,

I have so much to do, in my life, send me back!”

 

But in a calming, and loving, and in the wisest of ways,

He say’s “It’s time to come home, you’re here, you can not go back,

You chose to do this; you’ve chosen to end,

Your dear, precious life, and cause so much pain,

Now we must go, you’re time here is done, my dear, dear boy.”

 

So I left with him, but bade my Mother good bye,

Then I turned around, I broke down and cried.

What have I done, I really was loved,

I just have caused pain, for the ones that I love.

 

I watch them all grow, and move on in their life,

I could be with them now, so I ask myself why?

Did you feel so damn hated, your only choice was a gun?

You didn’t think these things through,

Cause out there today, somebody loves you!

 

Michael Bresnahan

Wakefield, NH

Mike@Bresnahan.org