It's really natural,
we can help you,
ingest this lie,
those frozen parts
will soon be all but
forgotten
You won't feel,
anything,
the cold can be your friend,
remember,
this is what you wanted.
the man,
payed to reach the depths of my mind,
that I myself haven't seen,
since the sunlight,
offers up a pen.
thoughts churn, through darkened halls,
dusting off the books I dare not open,
times when i was not afraid,
before my pure white page,
had become spatted and cut
by the sharp pen i used to write,
pens replaced,
with sickness,
the self infliction stayed the same,
books whose endings I dare not read
I remember the decision,
i wanted someone else to look upon them,
smile and say,
"what a beautiful story, will you read it to me?"
So maybe to someone,
I can be more,
not just something
Vague.
The pen reaches towards me,
it says,
let go,
please
just fit in.
I stand,
and refuse that tantalizing offer,
of becoming a machine,
i'd rather fear the coming night
and become someones
favorite story.
