Dear momma,

Did you know I was suicidal?

Momma, this isn't a letter of reconcile.

This is a goodbye.

I don't think my life means much.

Momma, don't you agree?

I know when you're around me.

You can smell the insanity.

Let me fade away into your conscience.

Sometimes I wish I never existed.

I mean, look at me.

A useless heap.

If I'm gone,

you wouldn't have another mouth to feed.

Momma, can't you see I'm bleeding?

The constant fights with the Devil

have their penalties.

I've been gone for hours and no one's noticed.

Hiding in a field of flowers,

all withered and dull,

don't you get it?

Momma, I'm the essence of death,

a contradiction of creation at its finest.

Please, momma let me die.

Give it a week and I'll be a distant memory.

Momma, the world will continue without me.

Momma, wouldn't you feel serene if it were wrong.

Sing me another melody before I go.

Momma, I feel The Reaper's scythe on my throat.

My body is getting cold.

My colored skin is becoming pale.

Life is falling apart now.

I was never good at puzzles.

Momma,

these suicidal thoughts talk often,

the whispers in my sheets,

hushed tones with a sense of urgency.

Momma, don't lie to me.

You say you love me,

but how can you love your demons,

vile, twisted beings.

The Reaper has done his work,

yet the world still hasn't stopped spinning.

Momma, it's been days.

Momma, it's been years.

Momma, I've been watching,

and everyone is still smiling.

My hourglass has been shattered.

In the end, no one shivered

No one cried.

No one begged God for my resurrection.

Momma, take care,

you're free of your demons.

Don't you see?

My death was a blessing...