Inside the bottle are the voices.
Trapped and confined,
she covered her ears and her eyes.
Paralysed by the silent voices,
she could only cry.
There she is,
just sitting there.
With her knees to her chin,
and her head down,
waiting for someone to hear her cry.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 11:47 AM UTC
Inside the bottle are the voices.
Trapped and confined,
she covered her ears and her eyes.
Paralysed by the silent voices,
she could only cry.
There she is,
just sitting there.
With her knees to her chin,
and her head down,
waiting for someone to hear her cry.
This is a poem about how we get haunted by the voices in our heads.
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