Sometimes I talk, like a starry night
Vomiting out my guts like an incomplete
Story filled with breathless pauses
I don’t want to make it stop
Then I lose;
I fill my lungs with sea salt
And the wailing of the wise
I am heavy, floating nomore
Drenched uptil my nose
In sentiments and opinions
That were never my own
I sink;
I feel hands reaching out
Strands of doubt being plucked
The back of my head is now a wound
That makes no sound, being pulled
In several directions, I am not
Your drum set to pound, or
Your China to polish, or your
Treasure chest that frowns
Every time you come back
Begging for me to sit down
And open the gates of a town
That you know haunts not you
Just me, for I refuse to give up the key
That keeps the doors of my insanity


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