Death Came To Me

My hate was as red as fire for the cruel woman I called mother I was to be her slave. She, my master. I was to play no games. I was no longer allowed to laugh. My hatred grew hotter and hotter Until I decided I had to either Kill her or myself. I had an urge, a dream A little bit of a fantasy I took the knife in my hand And charged it towards my chest. I laid on the tiled floor And thought about the joy I was suppose to be feeling now. My breath became weaker Each slower than the last My eyes began to close I began to see black. My family rushed in With remorseful screams As they found me in my Sea of blood and lost dreams. My mother held my cold hand And wept bitterly She could not understand Why I had done such a thing I lifted my head and barely said "I love you mom. what have I done"? Its been four years since that night And I can still hear the screams. I had hoped for fun. I had hoped for laughs but I found a sea of tears. Death came to me.