i'll go emily dickinson on you;
lock myself up in my room and wear only white.
let the neighborhood children whisper about me while all i do is write.
i'll hear their laughter and use it as melody for my misery.
these poems will lay about scattered around the house until i die.
all my quirks, madness and antidotes will spread like a virus through cyber air.
these dreams i dare to dare.
i might work up the nerve to sylvia plath myself one day.
there's no expectations to live up to so i just play.
i amuse myself for hours staring at the ceiling or counting imaginary wild flowers.
life feeds off of power.
i gave mine to you, so now i wait for death like a coward.
please someone see me.
please come and get me.
i miss being human.
every door is locked.
every watch has stopped.
my windows are shuttered.
i sit and rot within my brain full of clutter.
maybe i could capture my inner poe.
i feel subtle rage when i stub my big toe.
the darkness swills down my throat.
i swallow hard so i don't choke.
bird's scare me and words fear me;
this will be my never more ending...
pity, pity, pity me!
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