The rushed beating of my heart

As I press my fingertips

Against intrusive thoughts and

Evil ideas which I

Can no longer control.

They’re louder than the words

That I know to be true,

Pounding against my temples

And humming in my ears

Without rest.

 

I wish for isolation.

 

When the moon rises, shimmering

Against my pale hands

I can breathe.

In the silence, I can finally hear

Truth against the hateful words

Which spew from my own mouth

And burrow into my ears.

In the darkness of my closed lids

I can see that which my racing heart

Wanted to ignore, and

I am able to slow

My thoughts

To a standstill.

 

The silence

 allows me to

   breath

And my fingers

   fall limp

To drift

   to my lap

In peace.