Stream of Consciousness

Excerpt

I realize the pain that comes to life in my dream,

but I'm going to keep my scar, with these memories.

My anger was blown into the winds a while ago.

My distrust fell against the gales, my wrath into the foam,

all my fears went with the current, and that's where I'll leave it.

Even when it never comes back,

and I'll never feel the same anger twice,

each scar is my means, and my legacy.

That, I can't part with.

I forget the fact that I can change.

The rain beats music controlling my writhing heart,

speaking every language to me, using simple words.

I've started seeing what they were talking about,

that I've missed something I never had

and to be held like I want to be

And destroy what I used to be.

It's unromantic, listening to their words anymore.

I'm going ahead to follow the sound it gave me.

And destroy that dream;

the empty feeling there, whispered by winds.

And please don't look for me, and don't remember me.

If I hear the sound again, will I be strong enough to remember to change?

To do the right thing.

Do I have the power to break the gale?

Enough power . . . if I can be louder than the rain.