Warning: This poem contains blunt references to suicide.
There is this sea of trees
That is home
To weeping wills
And frayed nooses
Left hanging from its countless boney boughs.
Its death harvest
In the month of March.
One of the reasons
So many people choose this forest
As their final resting place
Is so they won’t die
They go there
Because so many others have gone there
To no longer be
There are others who choose this forest
So they can die
And not be noticed (just like how they feel in their living life)
As they are leaving.
But that didn’t work;
I see you now,
And you’ll never be alone.
*** No matter how alone you feel… you are never truly alone. You just aren’t. Humans suffer together. There is always someone who will listen to you. ***
*** Forgive me… I just learned about the “suicide forest of Japan” and now I feel sick. So I wrote this. I mean… I knew about the suicide situation there… I didn’t know there was a suicide destination that people went to… there. ***