Quietly Insane

Like a battle field within a room,
Never to be opened.
Sound is dampened by the walls,
That never will be broken.
All the damage your own doing,
But somehow not your fault.

You take a moment to clear the mess,
But all you do is stir the dust.
Dust that is far better off under the battle,
Than among it.

Inside these walls lie things,
That are never to be shared.
Apart from between me and,
The voices in my head.