This rattling in my head, Grows louder Until the din fills my space with its own. And I break down before you. The green tears rolling down my cheek. Salt bites bitter into my lip But I can't hear the pain For the concise din Reckons with its strength, Becoming whole and one. Drowning out the passing day. Numbing me into fear. Numbing me into nothing.
This poem is Copyright (c) 1994 Kerry Brodt. All rights reserved.