To My Loving Mother

To my loving mother,
The post-it of all time,
This time I haven't got a poem,
Just a way to say good-bye.

You didn't have to be there,
When I dragged across my knife.
I didn't give you an invitation,
But caring would have been nice.

You told me that you loved me,
And my bitterness only rose.
All those cards I'd given you,
Trashed or mixed with clothes.

But it doesn't matter anymore,
Because there's nothing to forgive.
Maybe if I wasn't such a punk,
I'd realize I have more to life.

You never sat and talked to me,
About what was going on.
Never once just sat and said,
Honey is something wrong?

I ponder now if you even noticed?
When you were playing, how I wept,
And all along you thought it nothing,
That indeed peacefully I slept.

I won't blame you for never seeing,
Since it's not only you who's blinded,
Meanwhile you happily live life,
to my knife I am simply binded.

Today I got a good idea,
I'm going to max,
To see how long I am endure the pain,
To see how long it lasts.

And I know why I won't live,
That's why I write this note,
To tell you that I've always loved you,
But I have sadly lost all hope.

So good-bye is all I can say,
I couldn't be a better daughter,
For tonight when you sleep,
Myself I am to slaughter.