Adam Bowcutt
2 min readNov 5, 2019



A poetic story of depression, [almost] Suicide, deep recovery, and confidence.

By Adam Bowcutt

My frown reflects like deep emptiness mocking me from another dimension.

Stained sparingly with spatters of escaped toothpaste, the bathroom mirror reveals a broken spirit.

Who is that sorry excuse of a man staring back from the stained glass?

“You useless piece of shit” a voice declared with venom.

“Kill yourself” the voice said hissing like an angry snake.

This will be another long night.

Now, awake from disjointed slumber. What’s today? Just another number.

Days meaningless and nights drawn-out.

What’s the point of life poisoned with doubt?

Fear hits my body like a bolt of lightening.

To die today?

Shallow breath and pounding heart. Will I ever see the light?

With noose held tight I walk downstairs.

I’ve lost the fight. I’m in despair.

Now in the garage. Around my neck, I tighten the rope. Is it over yet?

There is no hope.

Stood upon the red bucket turned on its head. Ready to drop I just can’t cope.

“If you fail what then?”

A broken mind and shattered body? A human shell with a stale soul?

Good night, lights out.

Tomorrow comes, so what now?

“Do you want to join me on a journey?” An Angel pleads.

What’s the worst that can happen I mused because yesterday was severe.

“Yes” I gently replied. The Angel nodded knowingly.

We drove to Sydney on a chariot searching for hope.

An environment of new state freshened my mind.

Time well spent with loved ones truly nourishing. Mind quenched by life’s water at source.

Now, it’s time to flow and let the past go.


‘Be who you are & say what you feel because those who mind don’t matter & those who matter don’t mind’



Adam Bowcutt

Mental Health Author | I am Adam Bowcutt and I am rewriting mental wealth