I said: Please, God, take me away.
If you’re there,
you know I don’t want to stay.

Why’d you do this?
Why leave me like this?
Breathing feels like punishment,
waking up, a curse.

If you can hear me,
then you know
I don’t want this life.
I don’t want to go on
without her.

So take me.
Take me, or tell me why
you won’t.