Thoughts Are Loud


My breathing has slowed,
My limbs have become numb,
And all that I hear
Is the beat of a drum.

It grows louder and louder,
And through my brain it's bursting forth.
Now, blood pours out
From the hole it's created.

It was designed to torture,
And it does torture well,
By rendering me deaf
To any other sound.

Boom, boom, boom
Goes the sound of negativity.
It's a sound like any other,
But only distinguishable to me.

The pain is burning,
And in agony I scream,
Because the drum keeps pulsing
To a never-ending beat.

I'd rather crawl out of my skin
Than live through this hell,
But the booming has entrapped me
And won't set me free.

My flesh has melted
To cope with the sensation,
And a haunted skeleton remains--
Still alive, but broken.

The sound won't leave me,
It won't even let me die.
So, death is a gift,
But this horror is far from over.

With my future final breath
I will sit up and say,
"The war is finally over,
So please burn my brain."

With that last sentence,
My life will have ended,
And I will rejoice in the afterglow
Of a suffering finally gone.

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