Talking to Myself

I thought I had the answers,
Went over them all in my head,
Now there’s a phantom of memory,
Lying beside me on my bed.
Whispering soft words I knew,
Striking the heart with each jab,
Knowing how I feel in my mind,
With each strike, an accompanying laugh.

When did I invite the stranger
Into the room of my mind,
Hanging over my shoulder,
Telling me what I wish were lies.
Wearing the faces I’ve known,
Echoing memories to the tee,
So I can’t even try to ignore when
The face begins to look like me.

Because who else knows me more,
The feelings, the thoughts and secrets,
Forcing memories of bonds carved,
The thinnest and the deepest.
Least they’re discussed with myself alone,
Persistent thoughts driving me deaf,
Deciding not to leave me alone until
I stop talking myself.

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