Scared to Ask

Wishes of words not to come from you.
Promise myself to not look blue.
Dig a hole. I'll crawl inside.
Bury me deep in layers of pride.

Before you do, give me a pad and pen,
Something to do from now ’til then.
Later, excavate my burdened remains,
Uncover reason behind my tormented brain.

But maybe that sounds too far-fetched?
Perhaps it's the walls I'll have etched.
Damaged drywall trailed from nails,
Across the paint, a blood-boat sails.

Left behind its ugly seas,
Dried drip-lines of unheard pleas.
Maybe I'll lie upon that floor,
Under my art, hurting no more.

Emaciated, dead, and far, far gone,
The less-travelled road you had to go on?
In my death, I hope you'll bask,
Next time, think before you ask.