Written under the name cloverthoughts, this short poem deals with a suicide attempt and the bleak aftermath of surviving it. The speaker describes hitting a low point, the moment when life seems unable to get any worse, and trying to end it. The final line delivers the sting: the attempt fails, and the speaker is made to breathe again.
The word "forced" carries most of the weight. Breathing, which is normally automatic and quietly life-giving, becomes something imposed on the speaker against their wishes. Survival feels like a continuation of the pain rather than a rescue. The title, "breathe.", with its stark full stop, works almost like an order, and it echoes this lack of choice.
The mood is heavy, numb, and exhausted. The short lines and plain wording make it feel stripped down, as if the speaker has no energy left for decoration. It's a painful, honest poem, and it's worth reading with care. If it speaks to something you're feeling yourself, please reach out to someone you trust or a local crisis line.