Monday, September 17, 2012

A Resident of the Crowd



My flaws are written on a wall
My history is written in a scrawl
Scratched with the risings of a fall
Demons of my past are breathing on my door
Reminding me to revisit the pain of my past
As I hold tightly the strings of my sanity
Felt in the stirring of a storm.
The noises you make startle me out of my skin.
The gods of lore poke me in the ribs
I repress the risings of a squeal
I am a resident of the crowd
So humiliated by sound
Whisper to me the secrets of my time
Tell me in my sacred sleep
Tell me, how does my story end?



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