The whispers.
They follow me everywhere. They creep up my spine, my heart bleeding out inside.
The words.
They stab me like a knife, like a bomb exploding within, as if my brain were to implode and send my feelings out to them.
The thoughts.
Was it me? What did I do? How do I fix it? Do I want to?
The accusations.
They race and tumble in my brain, my mind crying out, trying to stop the pain.
The blur.
The blur of tears, of pain, of confusion, a flurry of feelings having never occurred!
The insides.
They're breaking down, they're giving up, has no one told you, dear, that life will always be ruff?
The screaming.
It won't stop, it won't give in, there's a feeling inside me which I cannot pin.
The shadows.
They're following me, keeping close behind, the feeling of safety far from my mind.
The emptiness.
It's black as night, consumed by fright, I try to fight, but it's endless.
The scars.
They burn, they bleed, they cover me, they strike my body with an eager speed.
The mess.
My thoughts, my tears, my bleeding heart, all working together, trying to make a fresh start.
The blooming.
Of new flowers, of new life, of a soul becoming more fulfilled, of a day without strife.
The clear.
Like a sickness disappeared, clear of what I once feared, free to speak and now appear to be near to my own heart, to my own brain, I cannot refrain from this clarity within. My worries grow thin, my mind ceasing to spin, I can now defend the state of mind that I live in.
