I don’t know the exact date but I wrote this a long time ago before I became aware that I had a choice.
A word; letter; hope
A scope of things boggle the mind
Behind the door I sit and wait
Bait ignorance and pretense
The dead bolt in place
I attempt to erase
Every adjective of you
But glued I sit and ponder
Confined by my own doubt
Out come the demons
I pretend to not hear
Fear grips and I am stagnant
Content in that moment to drown
Down every second: each blow
I know bliss awaits in the melancholy
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