No more thoughts,
not my own.
Demons still whisper
but their voices aren't my own.
I feel the panic building in my chest,
I've dug the grave too deep.
I'm scared, is this what I want?
Is this about want at all?
I don't know anymore,
I don't remember the difference.
YOU ARE READING
Can you hear us yet?
PoetryThe things that I think about at school, mostly intrusive thoughts.
Voices
No more thoughts,
not my own.
Demons still whisper
but their voices aren't my own.
I feel the panic building in my chest,
I've dug the grave too deep.
I'm scared, is this what I want?
Is this about want at all?
I don't know anymore,
I don't remember the difference.