Letter/poem of death

Dear Sara, How have you been. Life here on the farm is the same, nothing changes. Everything is the same since you left not much has changed. Many die, and we all cry. We pray for those who are sick, we pray for the dead. We go to Mass early on Sunday morning. Father think it's a waste, yet he does not want the villagers to speak ill of him. Mother is the same, she …

…silence. I do not want to feel pain any longer! My heart is sore and my body is tired. Mother does not notice what has become of her daughter, and father does not care. Now Sara I must take my leave, it is getting dark outside, and it is so very cold. I shall lie down and sleep, and finally let the dark engulf my soul and at a last the blissful silence shall come.