You Don't Hit Bottom Til You're Dead Poem by Francie Lynch

Wrap those arms around yourself,
It's a boost for mental health.
Embrace all feelings when alone,
Then hug until you reach your bones.
Squeeze until it's hard to breathe,
Slowly release and know relief.

Now wrap your brain around yourself,
Unbind the belt cinching your senses,
The straight jacket around your head,
Buckled and strapped, it fits like skin;
It's too much penance for all our sins.
Unravel the sticking, needling voice,
Whispering...

"I have no choice.
I'm better off dead."

It's not because you're lacking wealth,
Family, friends or stable health,
But one's perception of oneself.

Don't wrap your neck inside a noose,
Or shoot yourself with an overdose;
Don't splay yourself on a subway track...

"I wonder would I feel that."

Leave Daddy's gun locked in its holster;
Hold high your chin while treading water;
Stand still on a bridge, cliff or ledge,
You won't hit bottom til you're dead.