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Thoughts of death and dying overwhelm my fragile mind on days as dark as these.

Although, there is something peaceful about death. Maybe it’s the way they’re left to rest. Or the way their body withers away as days pass by, aging with the willow tree they’re buried beneath. Death seems simple. Easier, perhaps. Easier than living a life you think you’d be better off dead.

A Letter I Never Sent

You defended him. After he pushed me down the stairs, you defended him like he was the victim. You tried to get inside my adolescent mind. You tried to put words in my mouth. You tried to persuade me that he didn’t do it, that it never happened. So tell me mother, how does that make you a mother? A mother is supposed to nurture and protect the very children she brings into this world. Not leave them crying on the foyer having to pick her own self up.