To, : My Dear,
Of a cause still not known,
if tomorrow my eyes have not shown,
you will hear this ballad at your table.
I have long since been tightening the cable,
wrapping it around my neck like a dog,
my hands raised to the heavens, begging god.
For I am but a slave to thought,
thinking of all the horror I've brought,
They claim its hallucination but I know what I see.
Inconvenience when they know where to be,
a stone in the flow of all's life,
a fool who could not fathom their strife.
To & Dear those who are reading,
my heart is in my throat, sweat beading
as I write what I know may be my last words
I apologise if it feels like Arthur had multiple swords.
My final draft in seconds, my mind apart,
I beg you to abandon my bleeding heart.
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