Scribble-dancing with Amber again…
Hallucinating of a realm where no psychopaths run the spheres,
Snapping into sharp reality,
So many people telling me who I am, what I need –
so few souls hearing the noise and the silence,
caught like a bubble in-between.
Compassion is past it’s sell by date, don’t worry, it’s already been stamped out,
swirling around a plug hole, feeling the suction of the water yet coming up for air and afloat.
I’m scared to speak anymore, with every word analysed
so that you can second-guess what you think I feel
without having to touch the messy, morbid truth
Numbed and burnt words left unsaid stir this unknown presence,
fire scaring my insides,
swallowed irritation, suppressed, smothered with hidden, unarticulated feelings at what could have been.
If we really were the warriors
we like so much to play,
could we not just fight the things that hurt us?
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