I Chose Me

When the deep Black clouds

Rest above his head

He finds himself

Talking to the mirror

But No one answers.

He speaks His mind

Into the wind Columns

But

No one replies

In his Lonely mind

He has Two-way Conversations

With people Who are not there

Like his mind Got caught up

In a pressure cooker

A lot of twists and turns

With no destination in sight.

As if he is fighting

Two battles

Between love and hate

The devil and God

While holding his revolver

Against his temple

Like a game

Of Russian roulette

To please the voices In his ears

A never ending story

No matter how hard he tries

To ignore the black clouds

To his surprised

The whispers,

The whispers is himself.