My mind…works like a cave
Dark, mildew with ancient treasures marked across the
Musky slippery floors.
The rumble in my head almost as hollow
As the wind that passes through the
Tunnels, unmarked by men.
Sometimes the wind could chatter and echo through
And the voices could grow louder.
As darkness engulfs
Little creatures scamper away
They’ve made a home in there...
With statues of a past life
With stories left behind as memories
With decay, and stones crumpling from age.
As the words to this
Slowly diminish to a silent buzz
As I live through the day.
"The mind could be your home or your prison... I mean will you go with the red or the blue pill"