A recurring thought stuck in my head;
Now on paper, by my hand with lead.
A thought. An idea;
Always fraught with fear.
By my own making, a prison;
I no longer want to live in.
Erase the words, no relief from the pain;
Nothing to lose, but much to gain.
It’s a silent demise;
Away from prying eyes.
No white knight, no happy ending;
Yearning for light, darkness impending.