Voices

There are no voices,
Calling out to be heard,
No confliction of emotions,
Stalling my life progress,
And yet I stall anyway.

It is a foreign state of flux,
Scary not hearing them,
I find myself listening,
Waiting for them to return,
But they’ve fallen silent.

They were a source of comfort,
Whilst also being my curse,
My anxiety has now been displaced,
From them being to now not,
All because of a little white pill.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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