The struggles are very real, my dear son
And I must tell you this even though you are only one,
One day you will encounter these struggles
They will pull at your skin
But you must be brave,
you musn't let them in.

For once you do my boy
You become their play toy.
Like your stuffed bear
They will rip at your seams until you tear
Your stuffing will fall out in a clot of white
And even in all your might,
You can not win against them.

They will chew you,
Devour you from the inside
Plant mold on your brain
Pump your spine with pain
And you will become but an empty shell full of the darkness of the night,
And they will hold on to you tight.

Once the struggles have taken over
Their is no going back.
Your blood will run deep with trouble
Your bones will turn black
But you can not attack

You will see a knife and wish to slice
You will see a rope and wish it would caress your neck
You will see a gun and wish for it to claim your life.

I am sorry to say,
I let the struggles in my dear lovely boy
And that is why I am not here today.

I hope to see again you one day my dear son
But not until you are one -hundred and one.

Good-bye,
My sweet little toddler

With love,
Your father.