Tuesday, 26 October 2010

Projecting Inwards

A man of few words
Most best left unsaid
Between the manifested diatribe
And the chaos in my head
As the sun she sets
On another dull distorted day
I will bite my tongue
To vet the words I say
A man of few words
And most of those with spite
My real nemesis is me
Uncoiled, yet so uptight
As the night she falls
And the daylight ebbs
The maelstrom stirs inside me
The chaos in my head
A man of few words
And the used words spat
Tormented by my demons
My twisted soul wracked
As a new day dawns
My sleepless self lies prone
Unsatisfied, and meaningless
In inexpressive monotones.

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