Feast Or Famine
Some days, they flow like the nile,
bringing life to the parched soil.
Some days, they bring forth
a dark emotion to the open
like waves of a raging sea,
swelling to break free.
These voices in my head
screaming at me.
Other days, like prying fingers
of the long dead.
They are cemented in my head.
No matter how I ply.
Still they stay,
locked away,
awaiting another day.
Copyright © Linda Smith | Year Posted 2006
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