PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Too many questions spinning in my head,
echoing, louder and louder,
while my world dissolves in fog.

Trying to understand,
the truth is eluding me,
why won't the spirits let me be?

I've been asked if reincarnation was real,
how could I say no, when I know it is.

Unexplainable moments,
flashes of forgotten memories,
energies circling, clashing with my sanity.

Someone make the noise soften,
make them stop, I can't hear enough to listen.

Research that answers some questions,
more than I can handle alone.

Trying to make sense of the madness,
but all I can wonder is why.

Why me?

Why now?

Why do I feel connected to certain people,
why do I remember lives before this one?

Why am I susceptible to the insanity,
to me it has a completely different meaning.

I don't feel alone in my own mind,
every time I look around, I'm haunted.

Something's wrong with me,
that's the only explanation,
is this the way its meant to be?

On my knees, hands over my ears,
pleading, anything to make the noise stop.

Have I stepped too close to the veil,
dwelling too long on the foundation,
if this is Oz, what's behind the curtain?

Drawn to my own destruction,
how can I turn away, I'm caught in hell's flame.

My armor is failing, any minute now I'll crash,
why am I caught in this war?

We're not alone in the world,
but I don't mean aliens,
we're strangers in our own skin.

What am I, a medium?

No, that can't be right,
can it?

Maybe I'm caught on the dark side of the moon,
where the darkness reigns,
waiting for me where I willingly go, like a fool.

Puzzle pieces won't fit,
questions unanswered,
I'm lost with no warning.

How do you drown out thoughts,
when they only get louder,
static on a radio, mixed frequencies.

I wish I could ignore them,
but they won't give me peace,
they've become superlative.

Waiting for the storm to die down,
ground myself the only way I know how.

Silence is my goal, put myself back together,
try to heal my broken wings.