A killer walks among us.
A killer is walking among us.
He moves like the wind. Cold and unseen.
He finds his victim and makes his move.
There’s no pattern or obvious reason
Multiple people everyday, no matter the month or season
The killer is only seen by the victim
No one knows why he picked them.
He will take anyone
He doesn’t need a knife or gun
Some disappear and never come home
Leaving their family living in the unknown
Words are his weapon of choice
Isolating his victim and taking their voice
Every fightback results in his attack
He takes them away and they don’t always come back.
Today is the end for his latest victim
He went to the doctor and begged for help
The thoughts in my head are worse than any horror story
I don’t want to die, I am not even forty.
I want to live but I can’t find a way back
Please help me, I am under attack.
‘Here are some pills, they will make you feel worse.
Sorry, this is part of the illness. It’s the way it works.
Now go home and rest.
Come back and see us if you think it is best.'
That night he walked to the bridge over the fast flowing river
The cold of the water made him shiver
One more scream into the bitter night air
‘Please someone take me away from here.
I’ve seen too much. I’m living in fear.
The pain is so unbearably heavy. I can’t carry it anymore.
Love used to be joyful now a hard chore
How can I live when I'm not good enough?
Why has life treated me so rough?
Everyone lies to me and love doesn’t exist
I doubt I will be missed.
No one wants me on this earth
Dying in this river is what I deserve.’
Depression took another life today
He thought death was the only way
No one knew the pain he was in
We will never know what he could have been.
He reached out for professional help. The hardest step they say.
No one helped him or led the way.
He was on a three-month waiting list for support.
No hope, no joy, just a decision that left many distraught.
We will never know if he found peace in his final moments on earth
Or why depression chose him and took away his worth.
Or if he changed his mind and had a painful death.
Or if the moon shone down as he took his final breath.
They call it suicide but it’s murder.
Depression has found another victim.
A wealthy woman with trauma and a dark past
Depression is on its way and she can’t keep running fast.
She’s hiding away from everyone she cares for
To protect them from the pain that will hurt them to their core.
She is reaching out but hitting long waiting lists
Just give me some help, was all she wished.
‘Here have some pills.
Sorry, they will make you feel ill.’
Logic has gone and death feels like the answer
Life has changed and depression is the master
The end has been planned
No one will understand
While you plan your future and your day
She considers the various ways
A rope, a pill or drowning in the bath
She is sorry for the aftermath.
A note on the door, ‘Don’t come in. Call the police.’
One last look through the family album.
‘I love you all. But it’s not enough to save me.
I’m too broken. The sun is setting on my final day.
I wish I could find the words to say.
I’m sorry and I love you.'
There is not enough support and help to combat suicidal feelings. Fix it. Stop letting suicidal people walk to their deaths.
