The day I die.

I was abandoned, but I didn’t die.
I was belittled, but I didn’t die.
I was dismissed, but I didn’t die.

The voices kept coming. These people were haunting.
I fought with myself, my loved ones were crying. This little rascal knocked in,
“It’s not your fault, I’m sorry”
“It’s not your fault, I’m sorry”
“It’s not your fault, I’m sorry”

His echolalia warmth the room with dreamy silence.
Even in the unbearable pain, his puppy eyes melted a heart of a rock.
Limited words, but precious, he saved a life, again and again.

I felt stabbed, but I didn’t die.
I felt crushed, but I didn’t die.
I felt betrayed, but I didn’t die.

It was the best day of my suicidal thoughts.
I felt free from dingy and savagery.
Knowing that I am dead with no empathy.
It has been the best day of my life.

I died the day my father died.