Voices stuck inside my head
I thought, sitting in one gloomy room On a darkened day and a hollow noon - Had I heard any actual voice? Ahh! Just jittering pens and cluttering spoons. What are these voices that fill it all? From nook to corner and through hall. They're felt all day and yet unseen, They rush and run, and at night they crawl. It's nothing but my mind I dread, The places it dwells and the pages it shreds. Solitude feels like a carcass torn, By these voices stuck inside my head. -ak