Wpwt Poem by Chris Haifley

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Never did I would think things would get so bad
One bad situation after the other—call me queen of WPWT
Call me under aged and hormone enraged
Call me the mute
I used to call you my Angel in my high-up junglegym dreams
When my trust and freedom were stitched together with tight, military seams
It didn’t last long, I didn’t know what the military was, WPWT
With eyes in caves and nails in wrists—North is a place I know you will miss
My missing Angel, please don’t leave me
My dear Angel, I cannot see
Call me queen of WPWT
The sins my hands have done,
The matches they struck, the thoughts they transferred, the mutilation they caused
It all happened at the WP and WT
Human nature is a terrible thing
But I assure to you, my Angel, that one day I will sacrifice that for you
I will give up the ghost for you, my Angel
I will wander Limbo for all eternity if it means being able to call your name. One last time.
But you won’t hear me, because every sound I make will be WPWT
But here I am, my Angel
Still living, still breathing
Waking up burning with Hell
I tremble from reality, and the fact that I cannot speak in this WPWT life
My throat aches for your sweet non-name, my shoulders for your never-hug, my ears for your nonspoken-words
Nothing exists, WPWT
But all my hopes and words and crippling wants quickly jump out of the windows to my soul in a charming death the second my door closes
But I’m scared, and I want my hands gone, and I want the pain to come out, I want an X on my chest
I want you to be there when it happens, so you’ll know it will be for you; I love you
So I dare, and I bleed, and wipe the Hell off my shoulders as I utter your name
As I scream your name
Rescue me!
But you don’t hear it
You’re at the Wrong Place, at the Wrong Time
WPWT