I watch my killer rise from the darkness. Unable to move, I wait for my end.
Incapable of saving myself from the death coming for me I languish alone. Only moments remain for me and this short life.
I reflect on those whom I love. Of those who’ve loved me.
I think of my mothers and fathers, who gave me form, gave me life and love.
I think of the nose they gave to me when I had none.
Of my fathers who gave me these dark eyes which now reflect my approaching doom.
I will miss their laughter, their joy and their love. I miss them now; I am not yet gone but will soon be forgotten.
I leave to them my scarf, a gift to me from my third mother. I leave behind my smoking pipe, which I inherited from my second father.
I leave behind my hands and arms which I was born without, but thankfully given by my fifth mother.
I feel life drain from me as it draws near. The dawn light marks my execution. I greet my death with a smile, a smile given to me by my dear first father.
Sweat begins to fall from me, the time draws near. It is a slow cruel way to end one’s life. But after all, snowmen live but for a short time.
