I dipped in, swung through by open door
Your scent is of the wrath, your wounds are full of sore
Blast me
Bleach me
Who said it would be easy
Blisters pop as lessons from the tyrant sun
I cannot be told that it cannot be done

the days are long and exhausting
but they're a distraction I desperately need
until night falls and I'm left alone
laying, staring at the ceiling
and everything I was sure I pushed away
comes back strong and forceful
and all I can do is hold on and try not to look directly into the blast,
wait for it to be over and wallow in its wake
until it's shockwaves finally succeed in knocking me unconscious,
and the distractions begin again.
even the nightmares are welcome
because they, too, are an escape.
nothing seems as bad as the battles of my mindfield
during every waking moment.
so I welcome the monsters and make them my friend
if nothing but to eat my thoughts
before they destroy my mind.

Dear unknown, (s)
.      I won't use your name or hint to how we relate. Not cuz im afraid but cuz im real and **** is only talked by fakes. This is for one person no people and my whole state.
now that weve made the mud clear I have alot to say. so sit down and pay attention to what I Wright on this page.

     To start ill say that im not trying to blame, point fingers or hang anybody.