These Voices in My Head
When all the world is sleeping,
but I don't feel the need,
I creep down to my living room
And stories grow like weeds.
They start in little whispers.
They start with tiny sighs.
Then they ask me questions.
Who's and What's and Why's.
I don't always have the answers,
but my fingers find a way
to focus on the words
that I couldn't find today.
They come pouring out in quantities
that even I can't count.
They haven't made a unit
that works for these amounts.
I don't know how the rhymes work.
Not sure why they come out.
But here they are, in black and white.
They don't whisper. Now they shout!
They want to be put down.
They know they must be heard.
Then I'll go to sleep.
It's the only way I'm cured.
These are my adventures.
These voices in my head
take me to such places
when I should be in my bed.
They will not be quiet.
Sometimes I wish they would.
But I know there is no stopping them.
I wouldn't if I could.
I've grown to like these voices
and that feeling that I get.
It tells me sleep won't come.
Not right now. No, not just yet.
It's feeling better now.
Things are slowing down.
My head is getting lighter.
A smile kills the frown.
The places that I go
Are all inside my head.
I never have to leave the house.
My boys are all in bed.
I'll go upstairs in just a bit.
Just one more line or two.
Nothing else to write about.
No more thoughts to stew.
I hope it's fun to read
when I look at this again.
Will that be tomorrow?
Only I know when.
Why is it so helpful
To write in verse and rhyme?
How does it happen quickly
and take hardly any time?
It's such a quirky gift to have
Such a little thing.
Still, I have to care for it,
If I've learned anything
It's that we have to use
all the gifts we're given.
Or else we'll find our skin
is difficult to live in.
We nurture them and watch them grow.
They are our greatest treasures.
Where they come from, I don't know.
And there aren't any measures.
I don't even need to know
the who's the what's and how's.
The reason is the way I feel
That's all that I'll allow.
I invite a lot of people
to hear the voices in my head.
20,000 clicks tell me
they're yearning to be fed.
They're hungry for the words I write.
They read them, so they must be.
I haven't figured out quite why.
I really haven't. Trust me.
but I don't feel the need,
I creep down to my living room
And stories grow like weeds.
They start in little whispers.
They start with tiny sighs.
Then they ask me questions.
Who's and What's and Why's.
I don't always have the answers,
but my fingers find a way
to focus on the words
that I couldn't find today.
They come pouring out in quantities
that even I can't count.
They haven't made a unit
that works for these amounts.
I don't know how the rhymes work.
Not sure why they come out.
But here they are, in black and white.
They don't whisper. Now they shout!
They want to be put down.
They know they must be heard.
Then I'll go to sleep.
It's the only way I'm cured.
These are my adventures.
These voices in my head
take me to such places
when I should be in my bed.
They will not be quiet.
Sometimes I wish they would.
But I know there is no stopping them.
I wouldn't if I could.
I've grown to like these voices
and that feeling that I get.
It tells me sleep won't come.
Not right now. No, not just yet.
It's feeling better now.
Things are slowing down.
My head is getting lighter.
A smile kills the frown.
The places that I go
Are all inside my head.
I never have to leave the house.
My boys are all in bed.
I'll go upstairs in just a bit.
Just one more line or two.
Nothing else to write about.
No more thoughts to stew.
I hope it's fun to read
when I look at this again.
Will that be tomorrow?
Only I know when.
Why is it so helpful
To write in verse and rhyme?
How does it happen quickly
and take hardly any time?
It's such a quirky gift to have
Such a little thing.
Still, I have to care for it,
If I've learned anything
It's that we have to use
all the gifts we're given.
Or else we'll find our skin
is difficult to live in.
We nurture them and watch them grow.
They are our greatest treasures.
Where they come from, I don't know.
And there aren't any measures.
I don't even need to know
the who's the what's and how's.
The reason is the way I feel
That's all that I'll allow.
I invite a lot of people
to hear the voices in my head.
20,000 clicks tell me
they're yearning to be fed.
They're hungry for the words I write.
They read them, so they must be.
I haven't figured out quite why.
I really haven't. Trust me.
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