Shouting without sound
So deafeningly envelopes
My mind a dizzying compound
Voices uniquely all my own
Circles and incessant banter
Back and forth praises some
Criticism seemingly echo
So frequent to nearly permanent
Dangerous self-appraisals
Most are exposed and understood
Systematically picked apart
discarded seen for what they were
Countered conscious affirmations
Feeling weak in the chaos
Introspection's melt to
Familiar jingles implanted
******* commercials are effective
I many dialogs in my charge
Honestly 90 percent of unheard
Or forgotten as quickly as the next thought
struggle and circles and lost articles
This is my mind, inside voices
All my sides and fears and guardian words
choices, ponderings, and resignations
No wonder terrible migraines viciousness
They create order and pinpoint focus
Every voices subject and order reigns
Pain does this duel edge solution
And i have found my own hands
Given the freedom to manipulate or create
Without a voice directing quiets my
Mind my dialogs turn to strings
Easy to appreciate, acknowledge
And i am zen-like in this watching
My hands create a peace I've thought fabled
So i tinker, i take apart, rather do appendages
Paint, or mold, sculpt or scribble upon paper
Coax words into my own form of poetic function.  Hands busy puts me into a place i run to often.  This is a result that written out i smiled and i listened to each line as i typed
Content and quite in appreciation.  Hope you like it.