Voices through the crack
so lonely and black
at the back of my head
feel as heavy as lead
seeping through voids of space
slowly gone without a trace
oozing into the corner shade
cutting very much like a rusty blade
sudden and eager as ever
which, when, where ever
the feeling comes and goes
as they slowly pose and impose
whisper in my dreary ear
echo ever so far and near
words made of thunder
telling me to go under
dark on a satin backdrop
wrapped in silky taupe
dripping in blood carmine
of none other, but mine
hovering above the ground
with tears all around
a courageous coward
above all I towered
dead
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