Things that I heard

I heard things I should not of heard
Words of hate through my head they would rip
Voiced from my own lip

Three of me battling it out
Three voices one person
Should I say two as the third is physical
Angel and devil the two mental and critical

Sitting alone on the cold draught floor
Back coward and supported by a door
Solid as it held me the only thing I thought supported me, white dull maybe cream

The nauseating sinking feeling making a stronghold impact as I hit bottom
The life I fought, I was forgotten

But then light shined upon the fiery darkness as deep thought and swift music swirled around
Opening a door in my shrouded mind, tears fell as I threw the objects of distorted madness away from my clutches.

Screaming out in pain, anger and distress
How did I become this tragic mess?

Not a soul knew that day other than whoever is above, what happened.
I could tell the people I love or write it down to remember but nothing is ever realistic than the happening.

Every day since I do not forget
The nauseating sinking feeling, the tears that fell
Why do I not try to forget
Well it's hard to forget for the nausea and the tears that rip through my body every day.