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Bequeath Me Your Heaven
Useless I am told. The merciless words of the last I lived for – my mother.
No, it couldn’t be, my last hope, my last purpose
Telling me so?
I stand in shock
Disbelieving, the tears are welling
Then the harsh words retort my pain for another blow
Just do it they say
Just end your life
Why fight
For a life not cared for.
Something inside me fights
It lashes at my insides
Tearing my soul to mere shreds
That life it used to control
That happy child
All but gone
I feel it give in.
I feel it tremble to a halt.
I turn on my heel, not feeling what I am doing, everything becomes slow
I begin to shake
I gasp for air
My eardrums press in to my head
I am entirely suffocated
My sobs show only an insight of my pain
My gasping breaths for air pierce the night as I kneel in my bedroom
Face in my hands
My teeth clenched till the blood comes
Why must the pain be unbearable so?
Why must the pain be made to destroy ones emotions?
No, it is over. All I stayed here for does not want me to be so
I shut my door.
I push the lock.
I take one last fleeting stare at the possessions that ever meant anything to me,
Gifts from friends, expressing care
The gifts from my mother, expressing how she used to love me so
All things from people that I used to be loved by
All love spent.
Perhaps they will express grieving, but this is how I wish for it to be.
I cannot bottle the pain any longer, it has become too overwhelming.
I sit on my bed
I pull the blade down my arm, chasing the tingling sensation, the toe curling bliss
I put my head back, closing my eyes in content,
Moans and sobs escape my lips
Feeling my tears roll down my soft cheeks, my nose, my chin, my throat.
Feeling the blood drip from my arm
My head spins
The hot liquid that spills from within the only knowing thing of my pain.
My friend,
My saviour,
Bequeath me your heaven
For you are my last hope.
The weakness overcomes my body
The blood not slowing
I lie with half closed weakening streaming eyes
Watching the blood stain my bed sheets
Watching it pulsate out of the cuts
Watching them become one with the little streams now making home to my arm
Everything begins to fade...
My breath becomes slower... Shorter...
But no, what’s that? I hear a door opening
I raise my eyes a fraction, all they are willing to consent to do so
It is my mother, coming to make amends
Though she never gets to do so
The last thing she see’s of her daughter is the diminishing light in her eyes, looking upon her mother in the last moments of life.
The last thing I see of my mother, is the shock, the pain raging and ripping within her.
Now becoming a burden for life. What have I done.
My friend.
My saviour.
Bequeath me your heaven.
