My stomach twists, my heart feels weary pain
Forever I search reasons to refrain
From visiting the place where shadows lurk;
Where papers wait, to tear my mind from work …

I wonder what dark letters I may find
To torment me, and occupy my mind,
For days or weeks to come – but then again
I might just find a letter from a friend.

Perhaps it will be empty! Then I’d sigh
And know that, for one day more, I’ll survive.
Perhaps there will be something I should know …
I won’t find out, though. Not until I go.

When I was young, my life was free and clean.
My letters were so few and far between.
A postcard from a stranger I’d forgot,
A note about a magazine I bought …

But now those days are over. I remain
A prisoner of this dank unholy bane.
Some remedy there must be, to be had,
Before one day my mailbox drives me mad.

- Written by Anna Williams at age 32