Blessed by the Devil
To whom do these words whirling round my mind stream from. A trickle of tip tongued sentences yet my vocals are tied, hands suffocating around tighten, and heartbeat panting. Do I speak the whispers that I hear and play part on societies stage, or do I seek solace in my own mind's eye. Silence can always be broken yet my silence is my choice, like my choice to live, my choice to create, my choice to believe, my choice to be different, my choice to not back down, but my choice not to give in and finally my choice to speak only words I want to say!