The Voices

Looking around I wonder if what I see is truly there. 

If the things you lead me to believe are true;

Listening half-heartedly to conversations I wonder if what I am hearing is just the sounds of the dead 

Dead thoughts

Dead dreams

 

Chained to the past 

I'm hooked on the future 

But the twisted cobwebs of my mind obstruct my view 

The voices in my head whisper 

Sweet nonsense that I can't help but to believe

 

(louder louder louder)

I try to block them out 

But they're so close 

Whispering

(louder, Louder, Louder)

Make them stop!

 

My head throbs

My hands shake

The first perfect line comes, sharp and stinging

They, the voices, the whispers, like it; they chant

(Louder, Louder, LOUDER!)

 

I sit there looking at my work

The perfect lines marring my skin

I watch mesmerized as these crimson teardrops stain the tiles red

Savoring the pain as it makes the mental images go away

And the voices keep coming

LOUDER, LOUDER, LOUDER!

 

STOP!

My mind goes numb at the absence of the voices

Like the barren trees falling in the forest 

My mind collapses in on its self

Naked and alone

 

I wait there

Waiting to slip over the edge of the cliff I'm standing on 

Slipping over into the inky blackness as the voices start whispering again

louder, louder, louder

and these crimson tear drops stain my skin red

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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