Mine own Voices

And so I sat on the curb,

the light of the room and the dark of my heart carressing my soul with each passing thought.

Each breathe more painful,

each desire a memory...

each and every voice in my head recalling faces, conversations, emotions,

hopes and dreams unfulfilled, pulling to the surface the pain burried long ago..

these voices, they mine.

They strike not metals but the precious stones of the soul.

The black diamonds that posess every ounce of pain, joy, sorrow, love and distress in my body.

I am left barren.

These miners removing all that I own.

All that is mine.

All that is mine.

These voices.

They mine.

They mine the caverns of my very being.

They mine.

And they are mine.

My own voice.

Mine own mine.

My soul takes a pickax to its own walls.

The only things that keep it standing.

The buttresses of life butchered with its slams.

Thieves.

These voices are thieves.

With each diamond, a memory,

with each hit, a life unlived.

Murderers.

These voices.

Me.

Author's Note

Please forgive my grammar. Written on a cell phone. Please comment. I would love to get some feedback.

Reviews

[PaintingWords]

Really great.
I suggest you work on the layout to make it more poetic looking. layout is a very important aspect of poetry
(although i am no expert...)