Destruction
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Tiny voices in my head incessantly speak to me.
At times, I choose to reciprocate, when I feel so alone.
Hair tugging, skin ripping, glazed-eyed day.
Emotions flow through me, beating against my walls that I have built steadily over time.
Tears cut small paths down my cheeks, they appear bright red.
Miserable feelings are harbored deep inside, waiting for release.
I sit by a window, blinded by the bright light.
I cannot remember the last time I functioned as a normal person.
As I look out, so afraid, I see a small red bird.
It chirps gleefully so, that I want to cover my ears, it hurts.
It flies away so suddenly, I am startled.
I am alone once more, free to rob all joyful thoughts from myself.
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© Heather Southerland, 2008-04-05
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