Let me set fire to the tip of my pencil
And use it as a candle
To light this dark room.

Let the fuel I pour
Be the very writing
That burns me
So I don’t have to close my eyes.

Let the torch I hold that scares
The monster lurking in my mind
Warm my cold thoughts.

As I hold my breath and sink
In a room filling with water.

The price of warmth ...
                  Is the little air I have left.

Please don’t leave me
In this cold dark room
With hope extinguished.

So I claw at a locked door
With a burning piece of wood
As I slowly drown in a cold dark room.

Trapped in here
With myself.

-M.O.I