The Voice of a Stranger, Inside
I heard a voice inside my head, one day; asking, who I am
From the tip of my mind I had a thought and said “I think I‘m one of them”
My whole life suddenly passed by before me and I was desperate for hope
And again I thought I saw a version of myself dangling-gravely on a rope?
Since then I felt like a dead man walking amongst the living
I knew I was lost somewhere, drowning to its very last breath, quivering
“Don’t pity me” one said repeatedly; his voice descended down to a null
I thought it sounded quite awful, like listening to a starving cry of a sea gull
If you’ve met me before, you didn’t get to see my wounds or scars
I’ve learned how to hide them, well; inside my private memoirs
I’ve traveled around the whole world, you see; celebrating “carpe diem”
But I’ve only departed just once because the journey was only in a dream
Even at this very moment, I’m stuck; haunted, by the future of yesterday
Unconscious to whether I’ve been asleep or dreaming or simply running away
So, I have no idea what to say to the stranger inside of me but I’m aching to find out
Or maybe, I’m also the stranger, merely, caught within the shadow of a doubt
Copyright © Wilbert Dela Cruz | Year Posted 2016
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