Writers 
The voices in my head get loud,
some whisper "end it", and the room light goes out.
Boom!....Blackout.
But even in the dark I’m still here,
breathing.
They argue at 2am
like tenants who forgot rent is due.
One is my mother.
One is who I was at 17.
One is me pushing people away because of my insecurities
One sounds exactly like fear
wearing my own voice.
To the extent I start to imagine things, seeing images in my head that doesn't even exist
My breath lingers....
My heart races...
My eyes shut slowly...
Tears on my pillow....
As I open my mouth to speak but the words don't flow,
I want to move but I'm unable to,
I don't feel anything because I'm still broken
Hiding behind "I'm okay" when really nothing is okay!
Saying "I'm fine" when truly I wish I was fine!
But under the noise there’s another sound,
soft, and tired, and trying to be found.
It doesn’t shout. It doesn’t fight.
It just says “stay through tonight.”
It says “you’ve made it past this before.”
It says “don’t believe them. There’s a door.”
And suddenly the lights are back on.... that's when I realised I've been writing my way out
Sighs....it was just a dream.
