I want to scream at these thoughts,

At these voices vying for place inside my mind,

Reminding me of their presence,

Every damn day,

Unintelligible and too many,

Begging me to understand—something,


More important than food and rest and sleep,


I miss the silence,

I miss its deafening peace,

I miss its tremble,

And I miss the rain,

I can’t seem to focus on anything,

And then the voices laugh,


Because my mind is the priority now,


As it should be, I think,

Not quite sure if the thought was my own,

Now, I’m starting to think they aren’t just voices,

That they’re doing it on purpose,

And I’m—not their target,

Certainly not worthy enough to be prey,


I’m their new toy.


Penny For Your Thoughts?

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