Sucide. That one word expalins this work. It is about the sorrow and endings of sucide. |
The Blood I lie dying, the blood pouring from my veins, gushing in torrents, running down my arms, dripping to the floor dip drop drip drop the sound echoes through my mind as images flood my mind of the life that could have been the life I never got. I reread the note in my final moments just to make sure that they will understand. I lay the note on my dresser where they will be able to find it easily. I only have a minute or two of life left and as I lie dying, thinking of the blood, I go over the note in my mind hoping that they will understand the pain and anguish that brought me to this point. I am happy to be dying and that is the sad part of it all. I hope that I make them realize what they have been blind to this entire time. I hope they can understand……… MOM, I am sorry that it came to this. The life that I led was one of utter disappointment to all those around me. I just can’t take it anymore. By the time you find this I will already be 6 feet underground. Please don’t cry for me, you did the best that you could do. Tell Dad that I don’t want him to come to my funeral. Tell him that I am dead because of him. You let that sorry excuse for a human being know that he is the reason for all of the pills and all of the cutting and my total damnation. But mom do not cry for I leave you with one last gift and that is the money that is in the bank. It’s all for you. Please take it, it is my gift to you to make up for this. I love you MOM and don’t ever forget that. Love BOB WILKASON |