You cannot help but feel well,
When standing next to me,
Because I am such darkness,
Only light you will see.

My being alive is insane,
Inside my mind I scream in Hell,
Oceans of eternal torment,
No chance I'll ever be well.

Who prays for this madness?
Who defines what is mad?
When I slaughter this party inside me;
Then things won't feel so bad.

I'll turn off the music;
Then eat a few bites;
And write everyone a letter,
Then put out my lights.

But I'm not feeling so inspired;
My brains, thisgun, will out blow them;
Instead of writing a letter;
The last thing you will get is this poem.

-H A- 2006 by Hakeem Alexander