Mountain of Life

          The air was thick with dust. The room had a bitter smell of decay. The walls were worn with age. Stained blankets lay sprawled over the lumpy mattress, ripped to shreds. The shaded light flickered as it dangled. The carpet was matted and stained. The wood furnishings were now dull. Three letters written with my blood lay on the rickety night stand. Loved ones hearts to soon comfort. But it is better this way. I am a monster. Everything that I touch dies. No one can help me now. I am alone. I hate myself. But peace I have standing here on my mountain. The shredded pieces of my life braided to end this madness. So I shall jump. Jump off my mountain. The aged film over the room turns into a dark haze. The last thing I hear is the creaking of rope.