I read the letter.
The rot began to sink in,
It reminded me of dieing
If it was made of paper,
I’d burn it
And throw the ashes into the clyde
If it was printed,
I’d rip it
And eat the little pieces
If it was true,
What was in the letter,
I’d be dead again
Just a concept
Like so many other times
An inhuman preserve
(I hate it)
I hate it
I hate it