The rain pitter patters on my forehead like a christening
People are talking all around me, they are talking to me, all at once
I can't hear anything, just feel the words hitting me like pebbles
Like smooth black pebbles eroded from the Earth
I used to listen to the voices
Force feeding their thoughts down my throat
Swallowing for me, even, after chewing around the thoughts in their own head
Till its been so scrambled you couldn't even identify what it originally was
But it sits there in my belly
Making me sick on the inside, even when they're not there
Still, single droplets fall on my head, reminding me that I'm still here
That there's a hole somewhere where the voices don't go
I just have to swim through the water to the air
Where I can breathe? I don't know.
Maybe I can't. But, it's better than this place.
This place where it's airtight with nothing but sound; chatter
Heaps of expectation, only preceeded by the gap to which I don't fufill.
My arms dangle at my side.
I am looking up.
Pitter Patter. Pitter Patter.
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