Too much exists in my mind,

A cacophony of different voices, a chorus of farewells,

Echoes of regret that fight for a place,

As if I’m not thinking of them every single day,


They keep me up at night, and I’m tired of the noise,

I miss silence, I miss solace, I miss poise,

But I’m stuck with these images, and I’m prisoner to these words,

Fighting for dominance that I’ve long curbed,


The world is alive, slipping past, trickling away—always away,

And time, that cruel friend, doesn’t bother teaching me how to play,

He leaves me here, alone with my manic,

Where I’m going deaf and sanity escapes—laughably tragic,


These voices are wearing me down now, my head feels full,

So I’ll lay it down for a while,

I’ll sleep, while they continue to whisper,

Perhaps I’ll be better fit to deal with them tomorrow.


6 thoughts on “Racket

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