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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2157371
by CJ
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Psychology · #2157371
A brief look inside.
Twister. Cyclone. Tornado.

Whatever word you use,
That’s what’s in my head.

Spinning. Swirling. Mayhem.

Thought. Memories. Dreams.
Jumbled together.
Sometimes it’s hard to tell them apart.
To differentiate.

What has happened,
What I want to happen.
What I don’t.

I’m not crazy. Although I feel it sometimes.
I’m not a psycho. Although I feel it sometimes.
I’m not dangerous. Although I feel it sometimes.

They suck.
The voices.

I know they aren’t real.
But they say real things.
That make me think real thoughts.
Some days I can ignore.
Some days I can’t.
I swear at them.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
The just laugh.

Some days I’m strong.
Some days I’m not.
Some days I’m happy.
Most days I’m not.

I hate the voices and the things they say.
Most of the time I don’t listen.
Either because of morals,
Or because of spite.

I don’t remember the last time I had a nice dream.
Where someone didn’t get hurt.

If i give in,
And listen to the voices.
Just know that it wasn’t,
Without a fight.

———————————————-

Line Count - 38
Shadows and Light Poetry Contest
May 15, 2018 - June 14, 2018
© Copyright 2018 CJ (cjwitt at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2157371