ABSINRAW

And there are nights
like these,
when these words are
a scream
muffled into the pillow.
A howl
into the nothingness,
without an echo.
A teardrop
under the curfew.
A puzzle
without the last piece.
A truth
labelled under fiction.
A curse
with a hope
that it never reaches.
A plea
for the closure,
my imaginary friend.
A cry
for help,
against myself.
A taunt,
from something,
that died inside.
A prayer,
whoever listens,
to let me survive the night.