Dear Mr. Blue Funk,
You are creating an obstacle
of unrealism and destruction.
Not only harming my family
but myself. Lies, not white
but dark, almost black. Some
days my fingernails ache
with pain that you mark me,
like a red stain on a white dress,
everyone sees and knows. You
circle around me like merry-
go-round, mocking me. I try to lose
you, ignore you, but you stalk
my mind. I confront you, petrified
terrified. Living through scars,
I remember only being hopeless.
Deidre Grotbo
