Voices

The talking hurts my head. My own voice makes me feel dead. Dead without my head. Then i could finally go to bed.
Lesson's ahead, lessons I already lead. I hate this circle of "Life", you have been born to spread. Once you, shed. This skin an bleed. Humanity pulls over your ledge. Suicide's look to a beautiful end. But then... My shoulder solider pop's up.
Whisper's to a quiet sound again. Non acknowledgement cant always win. -Whiteshadoe