Dear Ms. Help Column Lady.
I'm writing cause I always read your answers,
to people's problems; typed on grey newspaper.
So I have something of my own to decipher.
I feel trapped, Column Lady.
All I want is a little bit of help from you,
a big problem made by other small problems.
I wish for aid, though I'm not sure what you could do.
In darkness, Column Lady.
This horrible blackness I need to get through,
the hard, never-ending pain of living here.
I need to escape, I know what I could do.
I have ways, Column Lady,
A few little strategies I want to try:
A cut with a knife or a noose 'round my neck.
Painless, slow or agonizing; I need to die.
So help me, Column Lady.
But you and I both know help will come too late.
Though in the true Hell that we mask as Heaven,
I'm sure everyone will think, escape would be great.
I thank you, Column Lady
For helping me realize there is no way out.
Sorry, but you won't be hearing from me again.
Make sure to listen to everyone that's in doubt.
I'm leaving, Column Lady
This Hell masquerading as Heaven, I can't miss.
Sweet freedom, the real Heaven is awaiting me.