Words Of a Feather

Echoes, like in the bat cave, always ring in my head

Floating as if they’re in space

Banging across my brain and skull

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Memories echo in my mind

They make sure they’re heard and seen, but never forgotten

All of the moments when I make a fool of myself and turn pink

Every time someone was hurt and when I was hurt

All the bad days of my life combined into a storm of sound

I try to tune out the noise, but it never goes away

The echoes of this siren only go down and return for another day

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Thoughts are charged

Charged with electric waves that charge the light that is my brain

Every time a sullen thought is formed, it continues to charge

Thoughts about the obnoxious habits of my friends and family

Desires to lash out and shoot these electric waves at everyone

Desires to run away and hide

These thoughts become more than what they once were

I’m blocked from everything pure in those I care about

Only hearing the echoes of electricity

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The echoes not only capture physical and mental nouns, but emotional ones, too

They capture the misery of solitude

These echoes only ring how angry I become at certain mishaps

And while life may be joyous for one moment, said joy will not echo in my head

When instead, it will hear a small mistake that is forever part of my identity

These emotions are caged in the cave and fight to come out

But I refuse because the echo in my head prefers to keep them contained

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These echoes continue to influence me

Controlling me like a puppet

Making me more spiteful towards anything I think about

The echoes flow about and make me dance towards defeat

Yet I try to avoid the noise in my head

And it only rings in response

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None of these echoes ever go away

They only get louder

And louder

And louder

And louder

And LOUDER

And LOUDER

And LOUDER!

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But they are never silenced

For words cannot slip out of the tongue the way echoes slip into the mind

Words are complex and linear, unable to define what echoes in my head

They never capture the essence of the noise

The pure frustration

The pure fear and despair and anguish

And they are never able to come out properly

The words are not sticks or stones, but swords

Swords that cut through the ones I love

Swords that cut through myself

Even when I tell them how I feel and spill my guts to the world

These words towards others will only cause pain or indifference

These words about myself will never be healed

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Until then, I only hear echoes in my head

And slowly unravel