15.6.11


There are voices in my head,
I feel them all the time.
Their riddles haunt and taunt,
Their whispers are a rhyme.

Like rats, they scurry
Up inside my head,
Deafening confusion,
He lays ignorant upon my bed.

Their silent voices never cease,
They lead my heart astray.
I look upon his nakedness:
My victim; he is my prey.