When the Voice Comes by A.S. Ford

Laying still and curled up small,

the world dims and becomes quiet,

heart beating so hard it numbs

beats,

bangs,

bruises

the rib cage.

The disembodied voice

whispers,

shouts,

fills

  the room

demanding what it calls ‘forgiveness’,

for another chance,

while trying to hide the deceit

that lies so heavy on its tongue

drying out its throat to cease the words.

It is only seeking the power

that it once had:

a throne and a crown

of delusion,

fear

and pain

that I usurped,

keep locked away

no matter how much the voice pleads.

To destroy the throne and crown

is a temptation and desire,

but even just a glimpse of those

metals with their peeling gold plating

is enough to bring the voice back

to drown this room once more.

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