He wrote a letter
To a broken soul
And wanted nothing more than to make it whole
To one more year he gave a toast
“Happy Birthday, I love you most.”

He wrote a letter
To a broken soul 
That was miles away fighting to float
Punctured by hate which then filled the hole
“Wish you were here, I miss you most.”

He wrote a letter
To a shattered soul 
A sunken ship with a fractured hull.
His hands shook as he marked the grave with a rose
“Out of all that I knew, you knew me the most.”

He wrote a letter
To his source of life
He prayed she would make it through the dark night
But her rosary was wrapped around a hospice bed post
“Out of all that I loved, you loved me the most.”

He wrote a letter
To a broken world
And let his best-kept secret unfurl
His life turned cold and punches were thrown
“Being hated for love is what really hurts most.”

He wrote a letter
To those that spat in his face
They called his love sinful and his life a disgrace
But it’s how he was born, not something he chose
“Being hated for love is what really hurts most.”

He wrote a letter
To those that didn’t understand
Why he took a knife to his wrists and hands
Though he felt pain when in blood he was soaked
“Being hated for struggling is what really hurts most.”

He wrote a letter
To those that knew all too well
What it’s like to be the devil in your own little hell
They cover the pain with jackets and coats
“Seeing you hurt yourself is what really hurts most.”

He wrote a letter
To himself
Ready for the bloody voyage out of his hell
First he swallowed twenty more than the recommended dose
“I deserve to die, it’s what I want most.”

He wrote a letter
To the few that still cared
His mind said living in this hell isn’t fair
As he grasped the ice cold blade he wrote
“I know this is selfish, and you love me most.”