Schizo

Learn more about other poetry terms

The voices return every day Without cause Yelling, so much yelling I try not to listen But they're so loud Voices, voices, voices Always returning Never dying Trying, trying, trying
Falling through the cold, Hearing the sounds of screaming nights, Seeing time change to dust. I feel you there. You seem so real. Like the little girl in an empty park, Running around with glee.
Subscribe to Schizo