"The Voice"
lies told, through my own eyes though
speeking from enter thoughts, I must be psyco
but why though, why it distorts my thoughts
before I saught, to end sores from things I faught
from with in, but must it be so simple then
like steeling canes from tired old crippled men
some how I'm tickled then, then begin to laugh
soon this sin will pass, but the emptyness I filled in past
seems to last, seems to jog down a widdled path
a temple of trash, hiding in a voice, a mental rash
disfuntional mind set, but its still not time yet
for me to turn my head, in disgust of my regret
my soul churns, its evil, somehow the cold burns
my brain like old ferns, cant grow, its stuck and so firm
it speeks in tung..."bagr het zarro"...soft, weak and sung
"grab the razor" it say's....and quickly leak my lungz
"lisce royu rtoha"...whitch means..."slice your throat"
might just grope, my inner spirit, "fkeni", the "knife" it spoke
I truly wonder, why dreams are nightmares, i do still slumber
pooney number, count my trimuphs, but see more blunders
the talking the screaming, even hard to walk when speeking
the sounds of darkness shreeking, the darkness is thinking
its hartless breathing, humms like the devils mind at werk
its heavens signs that lerk, showin the end, at times it hurts
the damage looks mininmal, my fate lays undefendable
the secret behind the mindseye, gateway into the subliminal
knife now looking more tempting, mabe its night time venting
anger at right time, builds up, fight with mind, self condesending
voice in my head, leaving my body moist, covered in red
ment to hurt my self, but now my framily will suffer instead
~Babz~