To whom it may concern.
To anyone who remembers me.
I bet you thought I was dead,
hidden in this house of lunacy.
You had me brought here,
so this letter to you I pen.
This place is cold and sterile,
I can't wait to be free again.
Was it for my own safety?
Or was it to safeguard yours?
I cannot recall the problem now,
my mind is stuck on pause.
They fill me up with pills,
keep my head in narcotic haze.
I have a soft and secure room
to smile away the days.
It will be good to see your faces
when they finally let me home.
I wish one of you would write,
or call me on the telephone.
Why do you never come and visit
The Moontouched man so mad?
I'm sorry you saw my melt-down,
sorry it made You feel that bad?
I hope you will read this letter,
the pen and paper I had to borrow.
But the drugs are starting to work,
I'm so drowsy now...
... I'll finish this tomorrow...
© Pagan Paul (2017/18)