Sugar on the Pill

Dear Ophelia,
Salutations, regards, and well met
I have sent you what I have
Buy only the necessities, nothing more
It should be enough for this month's debt

Dear Ophelia,
How have you been?
This time last year, all was well
All that we had was plenty
And I almost had a chance to wed

The sounds the neighbors make are terrible
I wake to the smell of vomit they leave every night
The landlord does nothing but sigh
Rent is going up, so is the price of rice, up north I heard there was a blight.

I read your letters; I know it’s hard alone
It is for me, too,
But I will be of no help there please understand
By the time I have another job we will croke.

Dear Ophelia,
The walls are old, experienced, and worn
They tell a tale of the rapture of people,
Who are already gone
But there is promise here, I know I must find it
I yearn for it, to take what I can, to make use of it,
These dingy libraries, the fax machines, the Tele and all.
To build with what I have, cuts and bruises take as they come.
I sometimes see it, the rapture of my own,
but by then, I’m usually asleep or drunk or a bit of both.

Dear Ophelia,
You must understand, here, you can’t go on with a perched throat
I feel their sharp gazes on me,
Their scoffs send me shivers,
They say my name like broken glass
Like I have done them so wrong by being here.
But I make do, I swear, I have you after all.

Dear Ophelia,
I musn’t lie, thoughts of leaving loom over me like dark clouds
They break the roads, they will make them better
They make machineries, that will work in our favor
They make medicine, that I wont feel pain again
They write books, all the wisdom one needs is there.
We eat them up like flies,
They promise us a future, but I don’t see my self there.
The world is leaving me behind, and I don’t think that's fair.

Ophelia,
I know I made an oath,
To see the things as they are,
To not be blind like those before us,
And many of us now.
I told you I’d be better,
But in this fight, do they even think of me as a contender?

I know it seems I’m making excuses,
Drawing conclusions that leave me in bed,
But you are not here, childhood will never leave you,
Yet I have to leave the warmth of our old home,
Bear the cold, this life-long winter?
I know what it means when you call me back in your letters,
You’re so useless rather come grow potatoes here!

I’m sorry, Ophelia dear,
That is not fair, not true either
I must endure, I must dream of spring,
But you do not know much I’m tired.
I know I’m being pathetic,
But I have never learned how else to be.

Dear sister,
I feel like I’ve burnt all my fire
What’s left of me is just ash
That is all for today
The pills feel sour
I now take with them with sugar.

Inspired by Молчат Дома — Этажи