A Letter [7DTH]

As I sit writing in this dimly lit room, it is only fitting I call this blog post A Letter. This is a letter to my past and present, a letter to all those I have loved and hurt. This is a letter to myself.

Close to three weeks ago, nauseous, light-headed, weak and trembling, I stumbled off of my train from London to Coventry. Millions of thoughts crossed my mind; still my focus was on getting home as quickly as possible, ensuring no one would see me in such a state. As I mumbled to the cab driver my address, I looked at my reflection from my phone screen, unsure of who to call. No. I had no one to call. My first anxiety attack … and I had no one to call. Well, it’s not that I had no one to call; my pride just stopped me from admitting how weak I could be. I fell victim to my own inadequacy.
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Faceless Wounds [7DTH]

A shell of my former self.

Empty beer cans and

cigarette snubs,

series of unfortunate events,

bad news never wonders alone. 

I am haunted by the shadow of death,

Frightened by the looks I will get.

From ashes to ashes

Dust to dust 

As I shoulder my cross

My burdens 

My loss,

I pitifully concede.

My heart bleeds,

in my darkest moments 

yet I do not speak up 

I do not speak up 

For reasons I cannot admit.

I am already weak.

It’s been a week

And you haven’t heard me speak.

Still one day I hope,

One day I pray,

You can take this pain away.

The Final Stand [7DTH]

Living in an abyss,

free-falling into darkness…

My thoughts are suffocating my soul;

strangling my heart;

destroying my mind…

Tired of looking for peace in a world 

that thrives on our pain.

Death isn’t a choice.

It’s merely a formality to the other world.

A better world.

Where the grass is green,

and peace is not just a word,

and pieces of our hearts aren’t just toys 

for the world to play with.

No longer seeking clarity from others,

only the reaper has the answers.

Call my words grim,

call my actions sins.

Still, our final breath 

is like the sigh of an angel…

A sigh of relief.