The freak

My demons, they seem to be ruling me
But they know not who here's the freak
They ask me to speak
They urge me to critique
The voices are so loud that I hear them shriek

But I keep quiet
Even if there is no respite
I make no sound
I make no sound

They jumble me up
They make me doubt
My sanity
My firm ground

But I keep quiet
Even if there is no respite
I make no sound
I make no sound

Just like old times

She came back to where she once lived
To relive the stories, to grieve
She visits the old garden, home to the red roses
And sit in silence as if to not disturb their conversational doses

Suddenly there appears a man
To disturb this silence with a cigar in his hand
She wonders if he remembers her
The hand that once soothingly touched his face
The face that got her heart beating in the first place

He talks about random nothings and appears to leave
Suddenly she stands up and asks him
'Do you know me'
The man says : Yes, I do and starts to walk
She sits there for a while wondering if she should talk

She returns to her house
Remembering in vain
The man she loved and assumed dead looked insane