What if you take a walk down memory lane into deep dreams and never return?
What if the 5, 6, 7 and 8 bottles you consume daily as a remedy for lost hope heals the pain for the moment?
What if the drumming voices in your head gets drunk and the ranting of your wounded shadow become food for the lonely dark?
When reality keeps pushing you to the wall and you dive into sipping wine from your tears
to get drunk in a nightmare that hits you unaware.
You are broken and scared.
What if fear wears you like a jacket in the day and covers you like a blanket at night?
What if the throbbing silence crawling every minute of the night in your forever lonely hours becomes of age, takes-in and gives birth to a minute silence?
What if your highly paid instinct settles the scores and drowns the words of your mind into the deep blues of your heart, leaving you a debtor of happiness saying there’s no deposit of joy to cash from your heart’s account?
What if you are captured a prisoner in your mind and there is no going back to freedom?
No going back to whatever freaky freedom… for it is only in your fantasy that you feel free
Every morning you wake up in the centre spot of your boundless boundary
No money, no food, no shelter, no clothe, no success, no joy, no hope, no love
Only tears and sadness balling in your veins and whatever you do, you do in vain
Starting all over again has been your dearest refrain
From the beginning of the end to the end of the beginning… your problems keep on piling
You are a prisoner of your own judgments which you’ve made a living
…and there, in the prison, as you lay on the bed of puzzling chants, you hear voices
Voices rising like ghosts on rampage,
Voices hunting you down till you are wounded inside (voices)
What if those voices disappear into thin air but their echoes still resounds in your ear?
Author: McNaevets C. Chibuzor