I remember the days like its been hours, like I'm reliving it over and over, the curtain of death is being pulled over you while you were helpless and cold. I have to live with the thought of your eyes piercing my soul. I don't know who I am, anymore. This shallow grave keeps me afloat inside of this broken home.
You don't know my history if you've seen what I've seen you'd put me out of my misery. I write to you now with shaking hands hoping you watch over me in my time of despair.
I see your face crawling in my dreams, the frightening image of you, you doubting me.
Everything I lack is made up in apathy and this page is getting harder to read. If the hands of God were mine you'd be here and I'd just be a distant though in the back of your mind. And I can't come to the realization that you're gone, you're no longer here to comfort me.
With my final breath I'll scream these words till my voice gives out and my vision blurred. I write to you now with shaking hands hoping you watch over me in my time of despair.