A poem by Raea Adams


You ask if I need help

Asking this shell,



Night terrors play non-stop

Like a broken record

It’s waiting for suicide

To release the person from within.


If you want to help

Stand next to me

While I break free

Of this shell that imprisons me.

Don’t act like I’m sick

I know I’m fucked

Just don’t let me be lonely,

When I become the truest me I can be.

Or I will surely fall from graces

Into the inferno of Hell.