My mind is full of jumbled whispers
Whispers coming from each corner
Telling me how I am to be
How I must do everything
The whispers like smoke in my lungs
Filling me with darkness
Why can’t I be who I want to be
Why must the whispers tell me how I am
Why must the whispers travel through every Nerve in my body just to make sure I act how They want me to
I want to scream into the heavens
Tell the whispers this isn’t what I want
But every time I do
The whispers come back stronger
Like a blade to the mind
Slicing until the whispers contaminate my whole Being
I rip and tear at my skin to make the whispers Leave
But all that follows is crimson pooling at my feet
The whispers will always be there
Everywhere I am
Controlling my every move
They will turn me into darkness until all I leave is A path of ash following closely behind me
They will make sure everyone knows the scars They left on my mind
They will make it known that they own me
I will never be who I want to be
A name i detest to be called.
My chest compresses as i travel back in time,
An asphyxiating guilt, back then so conscious,
Each day I was chained to hatred.
Memories draw in, of me bawling over my weight,
Arms crossed across , wishing for a sweet escape
Goals and dreams I had surrendered all,
In the battle with those tormenting ghouls.
As I plunged myself into vicious thoughts,
Consequences were weighed upon my tired soul,
Being abandoned to a fate so broken,
Surviving wasn't living, I accepted this token
So now a tattered picture is all I see...
Never nor ever was I bargaining for sympathy,
A mental struggle that had forced me to be,
To recover, perhaps was the only chance,
To fill my cup of despicable emptiness,
Up to its brim, overflowing with fulfillment.
Tears burn and stream down my face
brushing them back, weeping in prayer
God please someone to love me for the rest of my life
That angelic voice beholding a name
Echoes in my memory
yet which one
Surely not him for true love never hurts
a vivid vision some years later
detoxing from a psyc drug that nearly took my life
I saw my hand in a vision
Concentrating on my hand which had power
Mental struggle as I watched the vision unfold and drastically exhausting my psyc
I then saw a scene of woodland
It in itself picturesque
Yet something somehow beyond as I concentrated the trees in this scenic view gained vivid hues and the leaves swayed
some day I will find my home on Earth
and who could hold it against the next man for bearing the name John
Do you know of it?
The daily mental struggle?
Each day is a fight.
Man and woman, one in the same,
Beseeching seductions, provisions, and prosperous name.
Some may face struggle, while others maintain reign.
Quagmires discharged, with little to gain.
Although impressive, a lifetime of masculine praise
does not surpass the mental struggle in which females prevail,
So please preform arrogant mussel portrayal,
but I double-dog dare you to not go insane,
when beaten by father, and absent mother’s place blame.
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