The Ghost of Me

I see myself,
On my bed,
with a bullet buried
inside my head.

Dry blood stains my once white sheets.
It's been about a week,
and you have no idea how bad I reak.
I can only stare,
at flies,
Flying about
pitching,
shitting,
on my eyes.

The empty shell
has become a statue on the floor,
untouched.
Oh Well,
I guess i have to wait some more,
until some one decides to come.

What a miserable existence!
No one knows I've been missing.
But I was tired of all the resistance,
and my phone's constant ringing.

My house is in foreclosure,
I didn't know it could be reposses by the court.
My mother thinks I'm a dead beet daughter,
for not knowing that my husband was a Drug Lord.

I pulled the trigger for a reason.
He promised me he wouldn't touch my child.
Since he couldn't have me,
Either him or I would have to end my life.

I told him, I put my son into foster care,
I didn't want him growing up in this catastrophe,
But he's  actually with his grandma nice and safe,
under a different identity.

I kept my promise
and I pulled the trigger.
As my eyes closed,
I caught sight of his favorite doll, Tigger.

My poor,
baby boy.
My greatest regrets is abandoning him,
and not packing his favorite stuffed toy.