All I can do at this point is feel because those are my friends and thoughts are my foes.
But how would I know?

Where has my sanity gone?
Thoughts were always my safe place and thoughts turned to poetry.

My heart is a poet
It speaks in rhymes and riddles
Feels every stroke
Every letter
Blank pages welcome me
Full ones overwhelm me

For who can write on something already written on?
Far worse for a delicate being such as the heart.

Don't you know how delicate the heart is,
The mind is,
Don't you know you're driving me crazy
But all my helpless poet can do is rant and rave on a page that cannot hear me!
...
And still, it's the only one who hears me
They say pray to God but even him I've shamed him

I've shamed him
My parents
My love
And myself

But I can turn to pages and they won't turn away
I can cry
Scream
Hurt pages and forever they'll stay

Forever?
Really?
Sorry to say
But no
Even they would leave

I'm sorry my poet
If only I can protect you again.