The noises in my brain are contrasting,
They can not be contained,
But they aren't something to speak.
They're attracting my brain but happier words that have yet to become me are controlling my mouth and succeed in distracting.
Sounds can not be chained,
And fly free in my brain-But keep out of my mouth as if they existence there would be pained.
But they aren't something to bubble and squeak,
More like shriek and creak,
Bound to haunt my ears-yet my mouth remains weak.
_______________
Not that I ever really left.
