Voices
Voices. Voices, voices, voices.
Screaming, yelling, shouting, snarling, whispering, pleading, begging, crying, rasping.
Loud, soft, controlled, shaking, measured, desperate, agonized, choking, sobbing.
Voices.
Voices swirling in a cacophonous crescendo settling only during unconsciousness, but even then nipping in at the edges of sleep. Some were phrases, conversations heard before, others were manufactured by imagination working overtime to add to the horror. Sometimes the imagined was far worse than anything reality would have been able to create. Voices.
Voices that would just never shut UP.
It didn't matter. It didn't matter what was tried or what was done nothing could silence the voices. Sometimes they would quiet down to scarcely more than a whisper, but they were still there. Never leaving, never ending, always lurking, always waiting. Waiting for a chance to overwhelm and drown, to drown, to drown out everything, everything, but themselves.
Voices.
YOU ARE READING
When My Muse Decides to Strike
PoetrySometimes I randomly get an inspiration for a paragraph or a subject that I want to write about. I started doing this in the notes of my iPod and decided to post them up here. Hope you enjoy!!! If you want me to write about something in particula...
