Muted Compromise

There's this muted compromise I have with myself. Every time I feel like burying my pen, words rise up again. I go back years later and read something I had written, and will swear those words did not come from me. I am the truest definition of an abnormality. I can make someone else say, "Wow" but for me, it's just "Oh." Incongruities over simplifies it. If silence could shout, it'd be like making sense of fire before friction or seeing sirens flashing and knowing to be over. That's the way thoughts and words are with me. I have no idea where the first word leads. I have no idea where the first word leads. The intricacies vary from infantile to complex. In a sense, it's a rhythmic battle; a battle of minds. The good, bad and ugly all want their time to shine, as if someone were splitting personalities attempting to define the most dominant. It is me with so much of who I yearn to be.