Last night I wrote a letter,
Though I guess it's more a note.
I put it on my dresser,
Those solemn words I wrote.
They came from deep inside me,
From the darkest part in my head.
A place that fed on misery,
A place that wished me dead.
It was addressed to those I've met,
To those I've come to adore.
It told them to forget,
That I'd trouble them no more.
"I wish I had done better,"
Said those sorrowful words I wrote.
"But I guess I'm just a failure,
With a noose around his throat.
"I know this brings you sorrow,
I know this brings you pain.
But for me, there's no tomorrow,
For my beasts, they can't be slain.
"Just please, oh please, don't cry for me,
I'm just not worth your tears.
I broke down to my misery,
I couldn't face my fears.
"Here lies my last words spoke,
Amongst pitiful pleas I wrote.
My heart, mind, soul's been broke,
By the fangs clamped round my throat.
"In the end, I was caught,
In the fight, I hardly fought.
The Beast, it got its feast.
It won, and claimed your son."