Voices

    Voices live rent-free in your head.

    Some say, your worth is a hollow
    Pit with nothing but fumes that stench.
    Some say, you're being wronged
    The whole being reduced to crumbling
    Breaths and wrestles of strife
    Exploding the heart into a million
    Little pieces, once gone, nowhere
    To find. Some go on singing, with
    No halt, the tune that the wounds gave
    Birth to, tainted in red, making the heart
    A slave of its strings, strained and stubborn.
    Some say, fight till the spirit dies
    At the cost of everything, for the
    People that love you, the rooms that give
    You a space, the smiles that light you,
    The rain drops that share your pain,
    The words on a page that understand you,
    The ears that listen, the music that consoles,
    The beauty that lies in the meanest of things,
    The tears that prove your heart's power to melt,
    The ability to forgive, the hugs that pick up the fragments of your soul,
    The helping glances, the fire that warms,
    The sleep that sometimes carries you off to the lands of oblivion,
    And many more.
    Some say, just drown 
    The pain would then have an end.

    - Vinaya Mary