Plea

Dearest psychologist,
I'm writing you because I know
that my head can't cope itself for too long now
though there aren't any faults in it that would be new
Not that I don't know what's causing it
I just don't quite understand
why reality is so hard to sustain

No.

Dear therapist,
I must admit that I'm at a loss
and can no longer differentiate hunger from death
My roles are straight from the pen of an alcoholic artist
and I wouldn't want to die
just because happy endings are old fashioned

Perhaps not.

Honorable social worker,
would it be possible to find a place for me from a padded room
Oh, no is it, that's what I expected
But what if I told you I went to the Moon last night
and that I murdered myself in a forest with a toaster
does that sound bad enough

I don't think they'll buy it.

To whom it may concern
at times I don't remember I'm human
so could you wrap me in the warmth of your body so
that this decaying would stop for a moment
Would you be the stripped voice of my sanity whilst
I drown in safety just for a little while

Would that be alright in any way?

Translated by Sith Fisto.