The Letter

He came with shuffling feet and halted gait,

He had a message for me.

The letter was written in black ink on black paper.

When I asked him what it meant

He simply shrugged – perhaps it was a shiver

but under that hood of his it was hard to see –

And said to follow him, and so I did

knowing it was foolish to be candid

knowing I would ultimately

be made to sit down and see

what I wanted to remain blind about –

but there was no more time to waste,

so I sat down, looked and was afraid,

stared at all the mistakes that were made,

and saw that all was beyond help.

I wanted to unsee but couldn't, so I wept

and with a shuffling hand and halted breath

wrote a letter to myself in death.