Sounds, Voices.
Shadows, Monsters.
Flashes, Lucid Nightmares.

Life, Hell.

Something I haven't heard before.

Poems written by a mad man will be short and won't make sense.

Poems written by a genius will always connect to each other.

Poems written by a broken person will have a darker, underling meaning.

Poems written by a angry person will always blame someone else.

In the end, It will all fit together.

Sometimes I can't tell if the things I'm seeing are real,
Or just in my head.

Eyes trick,
mind listens,
voices heard,
sanity lost.

Some fear their shadows.
I am my shadow.

The room is dark.
Twisted, cold
and loud,
but then I realise...

I'm just in my head.