My hand moves to strike out 

My voice moves to crush

The violent whirling twister in my head destroys all in its path 

The desolate emptiness is not mine

It belongs to those whom my tounge lashes

Light lifted from the eyes and soul from the voice 

The pain is feedback

Not my pain 

But yours


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741