Tho new thoughts dance
Around within my head
I wonder if others hear
voices
Calling from dark
corners
Voices telling them to
listen
Do they hear them
whispering
As they drift between
thoughts
Showing them words
written
On fine puffs of gray
smoke
Floating through blurred
vision
Do they not feel this madness
Forever going round and
around
Day in and out, do they
not hear
That deafening clicking
in their heads
Choking them in their
own insanity
And yet I am told to go
on
To smile as if I know
the joke
One I have not heard, but
lived
Till death takes me home
forever
To its world of
foreboding silence
10 comments:
Sounds to me that you know the joke, Hope you do not become one of the voices,
Pleading the living to bear witness by words
The Muse bound to your soul,
Which yearns to be heard
Snaggle:
Muse's seem to get their ways.
Does Tinnitus count?
The chirping of frogs for which I hear.
Yet they don't tell me what to write.
They think I'm at their bidding.
"Wow..."choking them in their own insanity..." that sends chills down my back.
Dark, but well written:~)
Sara:
Do all writers
not hear the voices
Powerful! here to say also that I liked the pen name much.
Nilanjana Bose:
Will a double
thanks it seems
I owe
My favorite line: "showing them words written On fine puffs of gray smoke"
Lynn:
And yet they are
blinded by their
own visions
Seeing only what
others told them
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