I am afraid to write.
I fear introspection, I fear insight.
What joy is there, in insight?
Ignorance is bliss, they say.
They are wrong, of course.
But insight is cruel.
Is that what I am, truly?
It cannot be.
And I cannot unsee.
But I will do the next worst thing.
Let me battle, thrash,
Clutch at my skull, dash the thoughts to death
Beg my thoughts for peace.
Let me slowly forget what I saw.
Let me never, ever, write again.