By Robert Bostick
A place in time I cannot hold.
I have no life plan. I have no mold.
To speak of friends is of the past.
I should have known none would last.
Pain, madness, hate, fear.
Now it seems oh so clear.
Horrible visions engulf my sight.
Haunting me, taunting me night after night.
My ears start to bleed as I go out of my mind.
Untie me, release me, and slit my bind.
A broken spirit. A tethered life.
I end it all with the cross of a knife.
My lips part and escape a moan.
No last worries, I'm eternally alone.