Why? Poem by Vladimir Goshen

As a child
He was happy and innocent
As the years went by
His life turned for the worse
His mother had cheated
His father had died
Not by nature, but by suicide
It was then that his wrists became blemished
From a knife that brought pain and control
Before, his nights were filled with sleep and dreams
But now are filled with an insomniacs thoughts
He spent his last night alone
Writing furiously on a pad of paper
Telling the world why
Why he did what he did
Why he carried that knife everywhere
Why he decided it would be his last night
His last night of his unwanted, painful life