It's you in here. Voices echo in the sound of my despair.
There's no one else. Nothing to fear.
Weren't you here the day beforer? Echo. Echo.
It's you. It's me. It's him. Its me. It's her. It's not.
Recycled thoughts. The garbage truck never came.
Mental health is the risk no one's willing to take.
Spare this for me. You reach out
but I never said I'd meet you here.
YOU ARE READING
Muse of Madness
PoetryI am a hermit. Learning how to find a place to call home within me. These are a collection of my findings. From my madness in psychosis to my clairaudience that teaches me self awareness. I believe we all have voices inside us that seem to reach fro...
