I was lying on my ransacked bed;
I can hear the sound of the creepy bell—-
of an old, obsolete, and haunted church;
It gives chill through my whole body.

The cold and melancholic wind
was trying to seep through the windows
Of my frigid and lifeless room.
The whole universe was overpowered by darkness.

I thought it was just a cinch—-
To be free from the voices who are singing
Inside your head;
like, there was a ventriloquist living inside it.

And I was their slave
I don’t know how to fight
It’s hard..
It’s hard to fight when your enemy is yourself.

Every night, when the wind traipses the corner of my room
There’s an incantation that I hear
I want to be free—-
But they are living inside me.

Am I insane?
Asking myself in front of the mirror,
I can see the lifeless reflection of a man—-
Looking so dull and unhappy
But trying to be resilient.

the unheard remorse,
the wounded heart,
the sound of a weeping heart,
a blood that is coursing down through his finger tip
There was no life at all
He’s breathing and yet he’s dead.

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