You just lost your wife and child.. after the funeral is over you start to go insane.. hearing voices, seeing things.. and so forth..

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dear diary,
the past few years have been trouble, striking & sparking my mental.
but apart from the pencil, fears & the struggles, this mark is essential.
it’s carved a scar & left my heart unassembled, its supremacy reigns.
nightmares continues to haunt me, as this unfortunate memory stains.
i spill my heart to you in hopes that my emotions will blend in the page,
& spill my angered confusion & pain through this fluid, venting in rage.
my brain’s in contusions, disdained by illusions, & i’m bent in my ways.
i remain in my ruins, strained by these bruises & intensity’s flames.
cuz when lost my wife & kid four years ago, i fractured my thinking.
disturbed in my sorrow, i turned to the bottle, & was captured by drinking.
so my intentions are now to spill my every last feeling onto your paper,
& once i’m finished w/ you, i’ve got blood to shed, spawned by my razor.
i shut all my blinds & locked my door, i’m not to be bothered by neighors.
haunted by anger, each memory leaves my thought process in danger.
locked in this chambered house, as paint chips off the sides of the building.
my emotions are vacant & broken by hatred.. i despise what i’m feeling.
paranoid, fearful in every move, i can’t take my eyes off the shutter.
it was prominent after my confidence shattered that my mind was a clutter.
so i spill my heart through my voice on these pages in poisonous hatred.
i’m hearing shit. dear god, where in the fuck are these noises located?
hopes & ambitions are provoking more wishes. god, answer my questions.
the incident has left me panicked & stressed in a state of manic depression.
this is my last diary entry.. cuz since it happened my life’s been in danger.
so fuck it, here’s my goodbye, i’m sick and tired of the strife & the anger.
signed,
me

i closed the diary, & locked it in the bottom left drawer of my desk.
the incident changed my life. pained by strife, & torn by the stress.
the hallucinations & voices have got to stop.. i need to come to my senses.
sometimes i see my son, making me feel timid & somewhat defenseless.
but now it’s over, the time has come to join my family in heaven.
hoping god might save me, but i know he still won’t answer my questions.
w/ no pride or ambitions, i reached for & grabbed a knife from the kitchen.
my reasoning? well, the strife is a given.. plus the life that i’m living
i sat down at the table, & thought about the past for a moment..
all the years that have been wasted, along w/ the lives captured & stolen.
i instilled the knife. i’ll finally rest in peace, no need to worry or suffer
about my kid running away the day after he witnessed me murder his mother.