To whom it may concern,

I am sad today
but I am trying
really hard
to be better.

Today it hurts to breathe,
and I think there is a stingray
swimming in my chest,
but I am trying
really hard
to be better.

To whom it may concern,

I do not know who you are,
but you should know
that I swear,
I have all these dreams
and ideas
in my head
that I try to love with kindness,
even if they weigh me down
when I gather them in my arms
to keep them safe from the dark.

They are trying
really hard
to give me space
to be better.

But, Dear Heart and Dear Head,
you ache like statues of stone -
discarded graveyard relics -
and I can feel your cracks and shattered edges
as I skim the hard surfaces
with my cold hands.
I can feel the pain
and it gets heavier
as my words pile dirt
on my brain,
like damp soil shoveled
over a new grave.

Today I am sad
but I am trying
really, really hard
to dig myself out
to stop suffocating
to shed the heaviness
to get better.