You threaten me with long nights of crying
With days warped and brittle from rattled nerves
You slither like a shadow into my mind
Your terrors pound and pound at my heart’s door.
I shall not answer. You can stay
Locked in the outer dungeon of my mind—
I shall not let you out.
I will only visit your cell once a day
To thrust before you these pages I write
When I lie alone in my sick room.
They will tell of my full life without you
Of my joys and my cares and my adventures
When the tears and sweat have dried.
You are not my master
Only a slave driver I have run from.
You are but a empty Nothing latched to a living Something,
And now I am going to create a Something, fresh and new.
Though you may taint it, you cannot ruin it.
For I will recognize you when you surface—
For the dark Blot of pain you are,
And I will know I am writing the last word, not you.
Read on, Despair, and die.