Deaf To Horns

Echoes are playing like a fading bellow.

These distant sounds kill me, make me yell, oh.

In seconds they get closer, pounding my chest.

With eyes glancing, their thoughts damage my insult-proof vest.

There’s no killing blow, but the pain is constant.

I know there’s nothing to mind, but all reason is dormant.

I cross this busy road not looking, my eyes are groggy.

I can hear the high pitched tunes of cars but they’re foggy.

Is this me hopeless not caring about the end.

Or is this me hoping for my misfortunes to mend.