A creature of its own no matter where I go. Yet willingly hiddden from the rest of the world. A choice made by the broken. Imprisoned by every idea left uspoken, this creature becomes its own spokes person. It whispers in hopes of being heard and it screams to plead the role that it deserves. With every agonizing plea my expressions grow more and more incomplete, yet a feeling to please overrides this anguish with ease. Silencing deeper the voice of this beast as if beign swllowed to the bottom of the sea. Muted for life was this creature I held inside. Imprisonment of the mind had won this fight. However, I had lost the only thing that gave value to me, for little did I know that the bottom of the sea held treasures most could only dream to be.
My Thoughts a Prison for My Voice
August 24, 2017