I yearn for the silence
With every passing year, I am losing patience
I want something that seems out of reach, long distance
But I want it now in this very instance
I am growing tired of looking at my own reflection with eyes filled with tarnished innocence
I am delirious with voices in my head babbling thing that make no sense
Or does it make sense like some paradoxical nonsense?
All I know is that I abhor their presence
Yet, I have grown accustomed to their acquaintance
If they abandon me, I will be plaintive in their absence
What is the meaning of this?
The voices are becoming more blasphemous
Clashing with my faith, so loud and cacophonous
How has my own mind become my antagonist?
Violently working against me with such a burning persistence
The burning is so intense that my feet refuse to make their stance to be resistant
I have fallen too weary, but tomorrow will be a continuance