Three Eyed, but the Third Isn't Mine.

20 1 0
                                    


I have been left here to die.

To drown.

Sink down

into my third eye.

They call the vision a blessing,

but it tangles me in a haunting precision.

I am being controlled, and I'm not me.

It eats me up.

It keeps me from being lucid.

It drives me away from being free.

I am so stupid

to drown.

Sink down.

In compulsive choices.

All because of the whispering voices.

Maeve's PoetryWhere stories live. Discover now