Freestyle: Lingchi On the Heart

Inside I can hear them.The voices that haunt my dreams.The voices that fill my head with chaos.They whisper, menacingly, about things that make me clamp my hands over my ears.But that does no good, for they are inside.I beg them to be silent, but they continue, their words cutting my heart like a knife.Memories appear before my eyes. Memories I don't want to see.The times when I was most lonely.The times when I was most hurt.The times when I was most helpless.The pain, the blood, the agony in my heart.I try to shut them out, but they snake their way back in.Their voices are like nails on a black board, hurting your ears with the awful sound.They are like lingchi on my heart.I get stares from people, but I don't care.I just want these voices to leave me in peace.And for these memories to fade away.It's at times like these when I turn to the blade. It distracts me from these tortures.But only temporarily.Soon, I will have to face them.Soon, I will have to conquer my fear of them.Soon, but not now.