Today when I tried to write,
Just something about you.
I couldn't and I couldn't.
I felt bad and I felt numb.
I felt empty and I felt sad.

Like an angel's call it felt,
In my head. Calm. Composed.
Trying to keep me away from harm.
From your wicked ways,
And mindless seduction.

I have all this love for you.
Reserved. Unopened.
It is this box. Taped all over.
Destined never to be opened.

Maybe now I should **** myself,
To be free from this monstrosity.
Neglect and abuse delude me.
For a better time I yearn.

Recognition for others but none for me,
All that acting did set you free,
From my hands of control and greed.
But never you knew my heart and soul.

If this book were a death note,
can you guess
how many people I would want to eliminate
from this lovely earth?
Ten?
Hundreds?
Thousands?
Or,
would I only write one name?
.
.
.
My name