Dear Operator

Dear operator, There’s been an accident. Oh what’s my location, which path am I driving on? Well I’ve been asking the same question Asking God where He is, Asking Him for direction, Praying many a fragmented sentence Asking for acceptance.

Some nights I feel like my bouts of anxiety and depression Are the happiest I’ve ever been And the happiest I’ll ever live.

Dear operator, There’s been an accident. I got off the freeway and now I’m at a crossroads, But I look out into the vast unknown, seeing a warmly lit home. I see a door there, but will it really give me hope?

Because the thing is I could easily step in; Then a thought pops in, Voices replying, “if was my own friend Would I really let myself in?”

Some nights I look in the mirror And my life’s a great magician. I’m a part of an audience built of superstition Asking “how did I get here?” In that reflection appears A man whose tomorrow is not crystal clear A monster brandishing deadly weapons Consumed with his many flaws and imperfections.

Dear operator, There’s been an accident. You’ll soon go to back to your place like me And we’ll have something in common That we both couldn’t save me And if they don’t find my body You have a 50% chance of guessing where I am buried.

After my life has become a crime scene, That’s when they’ll acknowledge me, Without realizing that much like tonight The whole time I’ve been bleeding.