Sometimes the world hands you moments. Quiet moments, Like lonely late night bus rides, Where everyone is drooping in their seats After long days at work. Like hospital waiting rooms, Where people are too tense, Mouths clenched shut, Only opening their mouths to whisper Words of prayer. Like early Sunday mornings, When family is sleeping in, And you lie alone With your thoughts Your body still too heavy to get out of bed Like trying to run through water. These small moments, These little gifts can be wonderful, Until the loud silence Leads your mind to dark places Filled with the wild hushed voices You've always tried so hard to keep untouched and noiseless, Like you do late buses Or waiting rooms Or being awake early Sunday mornings. But your thoughts drift towards them And reach through the gaps, Pulling and tugging at the monsters And creatures you've tried so hard To stuff away in the little boxes In the corners of your brain, Piled with forgotten toys and old socks All of them covered in a thick layer of dust. They've clawed out too quickly For you to stop the probing fingers, And suddenly you're trying hard To stop tears from flowing, But it's like trying to stop water from flowing Out the gaps between your fingers, You have no choice but to wait Until there's no more water left to flow, Or the bus ride is over Or the doctor calls you over Or you can't wait anymore And you just have to get up And go somewhere where the voices can No longer be heard.