my problem(s)

you’ll never feel closure until it’s all over

the x mark says it started in October

I have scars on my feet from where I come from

And my insides bleed out but they run numb

Categorized lies are labeled by my pride

How do I stop an unlimited supply?

Do my poems spell out my problem(s)?

tell the police I live right off Harlem

The secret I keep written in a letter

Maybe they’ll read it when I’m better

This is my cry for help, you are the sender

how long will it take to respond to her?

blame the disease on me

my brain may finally set me free