Suicide is the most brutal attempt against human existence.
Snatching your life with your very own hands?
I absolutely fail to comprehend this stand.
Life is a blessing, a delight not a joke
then who gives you the liberty to choke?
The consequences aren't as dire as you perhaps imagine.
Just that your end only makes your parent's live a life that is lifeless, a heart that is tired of aching and a mind that is tired of reminiscing.
I don't sympathise with your callousness, I don't.
I rather sympathise with the million other lives connected to you, mourning your loss.
I sympathise with their hands wishing they could protect you.
I sympathise with their eyes praying they could see you for a minute more.
I empathise with their heart, living a life of guilt and rues.
I empathise with their dead soul which has experienced the sight of a beloved go and flow to eternity.
A lifeless body, existing to fulfil your unfulfilled dreams.
Now that you are gone and they are here,
Their throe has commenced.
It's not a life henceforth a living.
A part of their existence has been buried into the irrecoverable hole.
If you dig it, you may perhaps find unexpressed love and a heart full of tears.
Their struggle is a never ending one.
That you are gone but we cannot end this already ended journey, we've to survive with our broken pieces of existence.
Life is tough but not as tough as you make it. Suicide appears as a fascinating end of journey but if you every try to dig to its significance, it is the end of a fraternity.