Me, Other Me
I had a voice inside my head that hissed and whispered subtle things.
I tried translating what it said, its rhythms, its insidious wings
That fluttered just behind my eyes, that washed my senses clean away;
And though it told me wicked lies, I thought it spoke not of decay,
Of horrors, but of angel wings.
The voice – I called it Other Me – crooning as a lover’s sigh,
Lulling me within my skull to instigate a mad reply.
And though it spoke of love of sorts, a soup of feelings round me flowed,
Yet still I could not break the code,
But yearned to tell the voice goodbye.
But now the Other Me has fled, inhabiting who knows what space?
And left me here, becalmed and blank, presenting but an empty face;
Surrounded by some careful others, gentle handling of my needs –
Who never question, never judge, and deftly dismiss past misdeeds.
I miss Other Me.