(BASKET CASE)

To: A page no longer clean.

This is for the page that was clean before I began this sentence.
This is for my mind that was clean before this pen dirtied the page.
This is for the pen, that can never unknow the quiets, the silence all wrapped up inside me.
This is for the scream, indeed that is to never be heard.
This is for the dream, I need to end over her.
For the monster made of my shadow at night.
"I'm sorry for the screaming, can I makes things alright?".
This is for the warrior; nonexistent, girl with thin skin.
For the crying and the distance.
The state that I'm in.
The thoughts that run rampant that tend to my fears.
For the face that grows weary for lack of it's years.
The coffee, I'm sure, I shouldn't have drunk.
Bitter for the intent, sweet for the sugar.
This is for the first person I ever hated: I hope you never rest peacefully again. Or at all for that matter.
This is for the lost sleep, the insomnia.
This is for the Masters Degree in the art of silent crying.
This is for the dirty page, for letting me soil you.
Again.