Which is worse – to wonder, or to know?
What lies within the place I hate to go …
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