Dear Mr. Graham

Dear Mister Graham - seems you could help me here,
For lately seems each night I run into bed of fear.
Feelers* always ink bleed - heard it for already million times -
Wish the immersion of yours** in me could heal hearts torn by crimes.

Hear me out, Mister Graham - my way was also tough,
But cave in hell with pressure every day - looks like I had enough.
I've paid my dues, I've done my sentence - my songs are the same:
One more created horcrux for the obsession's flame.

Hide me, Mister Graham - throw away this sharp ass knife,
For lies in prison I'm stuck in became a part of life.
Invent the pill you swallowed once, wake me up from the nightmare
If what I dream's virus - then format existence sorftware.

Help me, Mister Graham - stop the power's abuse
The soring heartache I wake up with has become my muse,
I tried escaping, mesmerized, I felt too paralyzed,
As too much for the wicked I lately sympathized.

Save me, Mister Graham - I can't control myself,
I'm fed up: drenched in liquor troubles I put on a shelf.
Let down in need, shown up my scars - won't do it anymore,
A sip of potion, cure to leave it all just like I did before.

* - чувствительные люди или щупальца?
** - щупалец, имеется в виду.

P.S. Письмо-звонок-обращение к Уиллу Грэму. К тому самому из франшизы о Ганнибале Лекторе