Eyes war-torn from the spirit crying;
Drowning in tears;
Screaming, Dying;
Whispers hiss;
Although they don't make a sound;
My soul feels dead;
Even if I don't lay in the ground;
The voices inside pull every which way;
They scream and they fight;
Making day out of night or night out of day;
Their calls are piercing, but they don't make a sound;
Their pulls and pushes are painful,
Thought they can not hurt,
I am not bound







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