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  • Agnes Wohl

A Poem Written by a Client

This is a poem not a suicide note. Its a song that screams, I promise not a suicide note.

She is coming undone Still nobody comes She’s

said it,

she’s written it, she teaches it she shows it


They talk about her when she’s not there. They warm their egos with her despair.

Still no one walks down the road.

She lay in bed while the conference on her sanity takes place with the people who brought her into the world and with the man that told her she was his world.

She’s come undone.

No one believes her even though she screams

No one believes her even when she starved

No one believes her even when she was found drowning in a bottle of Woodford Reserve.

They go buy some bourbon they pour for themselves, they toast in her name and go play slots at the casino because its too hard to be there for the CRAZY one . The crazy/capable one, who holds them all in heart and in her hands-until her heart feels like the blood has pooled at the small v at the bottom of it and her hands tingle from her broken back.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall-but all the kings horses and all the kings men tell her “no one is coming, you must put yourself together again”

She has come undone

She has been drowning for years

Taking her life is an option she holds

and only as an option it stays, because her heart belongs to that beautiful girl who she herself has betrayed.

She comes undone and unravels, hoping the pieces come back together and this young woman she loves with her full heart gets out of this prison,,,,and that she never ever has to come undone. People will love her and people will listen and no one will walk away even though her mothers pieces lay there -having done the best

she knew how.

She’s coming undone, fast. She wonders if she dies would she be found?

Her hands are made of sand

Her own love for herself slips through them.

She’s come undone but without the ability to do what she wishes she could

Can she take the step she cant take back.

She knows she cant because of the girl who lives in Baltimore and the boy who lives in the room with the bold stars and stripes.

She’s come undone. She is stopping caring

she wants to put everyone away into the ground and bury them and lower them with dirt and take a bat to flatten the earth over them. Now she’s outside them even more.

Is anyone out there listening?

When you come undone you really don’t form the words people need answers from;

“How can I help?” they ask

She can’t put the puzzle pieces together enough to be there to tell them.

She has come undone

She has to put her makeup on.

So she can open her door to welcome the other broken ones.

How does someone undone do what she needs to do the most. Even speaking is hard.

But still no one comes

No one is coming for the girl whose undone.

She is pretty

She is sweet

her heart lay at his feet, her body slumped in a corner . She watches her heart beat for everyone but herself.

She has said her goodbyes. And now she just tries to be undone while she’s together which makes no sense but whoever told her this world would know her?

There aren’t any promises, none people would keep. She stops believing in promises. All she wants is too hurt. To not feel like she must lay there alone, under the covers of the bed( which she makes so beautiful. For a princess.

She is only a princess when she lays there still, so they can fuck her.

Maybe they are all right. She is mentally ill. Lets give them something to talk about, dip their apples in honey, while you fill up their wine glass and bless this holy day.

She believes in the day of her death wishes it

fears it

believes it

wants it.

This wasn’t a choice. She asked for help. Again and again and again.

She runs away. They find her and are only mad at her and scared for themselves. Its always her fear that she gets captured and taken home to attend to herself.

Then she puts her phone on silent.

and the broken ones walk in.

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