Goodnight, Dear Friend, And Goodbye

That night, he silently went up to his room and locked it.
He made sure of it.
He sat at the foot of his bed, with a razor in his hand, and medidated.

He thought of how his father blamed him for his mother's death.

('Cause see, she died while giving birth to him.
And his father has never been able to forgive him.)

He thought of how much his father loathed him.
How much his father enjoyed beating him up.

('Cause see, his father was a drunkard.
And he was drunk 24/7 as brandy was his bread and water.)

He thought of how shameful he was.
How weak and vulnerable he was.
How he was a waste of space.
How the world wouldn't even shed a tear if he were to no longer be.

('Cause see, he had no friends and no one would love him.
And, he too, loathed himself beyond redemption.)

So he raised his hand and marked himself on each wrist.
Thin blood oozed out of his work of art.
For once he found his haemophilia a blessing
As Death would collect him in no time and he would no longer suffer.

He would soon feel eternal bliss
And drift into an eternal sleep
Venturing off to worlds unknown.
And to him I say sleep well, oh broken one, and farewell.