A passing spirit
Might hear it
When I talk to myself
Inside my head
I don't fear it
I cheer for it
I hide nothing from it
I open my soul to it
It changes me
It clears up the misconceptions
I talk to it
Lay before it
What I can't express
How my soul is stressed
Can't show my face
My lungs are full of toxic waste
My heart is venomous
My head suppresses it
A filter silences me
Truth is repressed in me
Words form in my heart
But are too revolutionary
My friends are distasteful
Speaking to people
Is a leap of faith
Some are like sheep
Most are stubborn like goats
I don't want to be an influence
Don't want to be heard
Except by the passing spirit
The passing bird
In my head