My hand clutches a dripping red knife,
in front of me
lays my baby  boy
dead as all hell.
On the table lies a sturdy rope.
I...I had my reasons
I think to myself,
a pool of tears mixes with the blood running out of my only offspring.
More tears leaking off my face as if it were Niagara Falls
He was bullied a lot..
Being highly autistic,
bullies had an easy target, y'know?
He came home sobbing daily,
telling me the principal never did ****.
Well, I called that sonovabitch,
and with no action after two weeks
I decided to take it upon myself.
Sobbing heavily,
I called my son into the kitchen
told him I needed help setting the table.
Its just us here since his dad passed away you know.
That's when it happened.
He turned around,
I forced myself to push in the knife
my eyes bloodshot and welled up with tears
as I hear his last screams
and then he falls silent, collapsing down to the floor,
my breath short gasps of air and I choke on my tears as I struggle to comprehend my actions.
I grab the rope,
tying it in a noose on a steel beam on the ceiling as I stand on a chair
and take one last look at my deed.
I'll see you soon, I love you
stepping off the chair, everything cuts to black.
*I love you