A Nice Noose

Despair.
It drives me.
To do what?
I don't know.
Is it really me who does it?
This rope scratches my neck.
What am I doing?
I'm standing on a chair.
I made a really nice noose.
Can a tool of death be nice?
I guess it could be,
If you really want it to be.
Will my dad like the noose?
When it's around my neck?
It doesn't really matter.
When he asked me if I'm gay,
I should have told him the truth:
YES DAD, YOUR SON IS GAY!
Where is that bastard anyway?
I think I've asked that question too often.
Has he ever been there for me?
Even when he is here,
He isn't here for me.
I wrote him a note.
I said I hate him.
It is the truth.
Tighten the Noose around my neck.
I'm going to jump now.
I hope this doesn't hurt too bad....