Help?
A poem by Raea Adams
You ask if I need help
Asking this shell,
Lifeless
Blissless.
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.