I crave a voice other than mine -
It consumes me in pleasant conversation ,
But then slowly moves into darker realms
Dispelled by a shake of the head.
I crave a voice other than mine -
Mine is not a voice I am capable of following blindly,
Or trusting with the whole of my heart
As it seeks to destroy the very thing I hold dear.
As it seeks to exploit my single, greatest fear.
As it seeks to drown myself in my own silent shouts and the grabbing of my hair.
I crave a voice other than mine -
But they are all asleep.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
I crave a voice other than mine -
It consumes me in pleasant conversation ,
But then slowly moves into darker realms
Dispelled by a shake of the head.
I crave a voice other than mine -
Mine is not a voice I am capable of following blindly,
Or trusting with the whole of my heart
As it seeks to destroy the very thing I hold dear.
As it seeks to exploit my single, greatest fear.
As it seeks to drown myself in my own silent shouts and the grabbing of my hair.
I crave a voice other than mine -
But they are all asleep.
Murphy's law seems to really work on everything.
...
Writing when I feel that things need to be written feels good, in a rather odd, yet relieving sort of way. Though if this is the only way that I'll write (hint: it is), I'd rather not.
