11 October 2012
It's been four days and I don't feel better-
There's nothing to do but write one last letter.
To the ones I leave behind,
I leave them my little letter to find.
That conceals every thing I've ever hidden,
All the words that were forbidden.
I look at my life as if it past tense,
Pen to paper I slowly condense,
All that is me, transference of soul,
Finally I hang, death my last goal.
Post Suicide • Opuss № I