Please, prevent me from killing myself

I do not see light
at the end of this tunnel.
And if I see it,
it’s either heaven or hell
from a nearly-death experience.

I want to get out,
out of this dark tunnel.
Want to burst through the roof
to heaven
or fall through the floor
to hell.
I do not even care,
as long as it is lighter there.

The only lights I see
are the eyes of the monsters
that are chasing after me.
I see them looking,
hear their laugh,
and know they’re waiting
for the right time to kill.

It seems like the tunnel
is always growing longer.
It’s like, when I see the light at the end,
God says:
“Let there be another part of the tunnel,”
and suddenly it becomes dark again.

I hear voices
from the ghosts
who are haunting me.

Pen and paper
are the only things in my life
that prevent me from killing myself.