Dear critics,
friends, families,
readers, my haunted
shadows and people
I’ve lost alike…
The cold sun was due.
I sat in this very
lonely dark room
for far long,
no way to escape.
There’s something
wrong with me.
Nightmares slither—
visions, illusions,
thoughts to lose you ache.
My right hand shakes intensely.
Reaching out feels
like climbing a cliff—
I slip and fall off
as ghosts watch…
Pain ***** me,
its rope tightens
around my throat,
I feel isolated—
I can’t breathe,
I can’t speak,
I can’t eat,
I break easy,
Anxiety cuts so deep—
“HELP ME”
I want y’all to know
it’s not your fault—
Never was.
You all meant the most.
I love you.
I don’t know if this is
my last ****** poem.
It may never reach you,
may never be read,
may never be found,
maybe forgotten,
lost in time,
or may never be—
My last letter...
-Paul
I woke up again, and it's been killing me again. Last night no one showed up, not even a text message... But it's fine