Spaces between the lines

Meet me at the park, under the cherry tree.
Meet me by the creek, lets have a moment by the old bridge.
Meet me... somewhere, anywhere, just not here.

I am a prisoner. 
A captive. 
I've spent too many seasons at the mercy of a malevolent demon.
I've watched too many looming ends to myself pass right on by, apocalypses that dawned but never came.
I've got a black box against my head and its finger is always teasing the trigger.
Not just that, but this Russian roulette it plays doesn't help for sanity.

So meet me by the creek side, let's sit awhile on those rocks and watch the water run by.
Because heaven knows I need a shoulder to cry on.
Heaven knows I'm a crumbling relic at seventeen, when it seems everyone else was just barely built.
The hurricane is just on the horizon, and I don't know if I'll make it through this one.

So please.
Meet me in the park.
By the creek.
On the old bridge.
Maybe on the swings or someplace in the trees.

Meet me there. 
And maybe just maybe I might make it this time like I always have, even with chains around my neck and ice cold claws gracing the inner reaches of my mind.
Maybe. Just maybe, I can make it through the tempest with you.