My eyes opened,
but all I saw was darkness.
Men and women in dark clothes,
and noticeable dark expressions.

I wandered around,
trying to find someone familiar
in between all the grumpy people,
who are sobbing uncontrollably.

Far across the distance,
my family I saw.
My father, my mother, and
my siblings.
Never have I ever seen them
look so somber and murky.

I jogged, then ran. I sprinted to them.
My hand met my mom's shoulder,
trying to get her attention.
But it didn't.

I coughed. I spoke up. I yelled.
I wasn't noticed.
I felt invisible.
Am I?

A loud voice boomed.
Prayers were spoken.
My eyebrows furrowed.
I stood there, frozen.

My name was mentioned.
Everyone's sobs increased.
My best friend fell on the ground,
howling, displeased.

I turned around, and
my picture I saw.
I shook my head, the truth
I tried to withdraw.

I took a step back,
away from it all.
I have never felt
ever so small.

Everything, everyone
was distressed.
For my death,
they felt gloomy and oppressed.

I blamed myself
for everyone's sadness.
For having to attend
my dejected funeral.

I left behind people
who'll love me forever.
Love my flaws and perfections.
Love me altogether.

I did not only kill myself,
but I did so to many people
who wanted me to stay.
Who are overwhelmed with dismay.

I did it out of confusion and frustration.
I wasn't thinking straight.
I shouldn't have committed suicide,
but now, it's way too late.