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There is a chatter from the floorboards
Chatter! Chatter! Not a creek,
It is the chant of the forsaken souls
Sorrow fills their voices weak


Demons rest within each one of us
Responsible for all the good that’s there
The peace and kindness fuel our violence
For they are far too much to bear


We’ll stand together in this auditorium
Each shields their sins from other’s eyes
Wanting to be something more than rotten
Our truths are stained with pitch black lies


But it’s okay to tell a fib right here
Where both are in the same old spot
Itching pores and trying to remember
The chant we’d only just forgot


It held the answer to our questions
Because the dead always know best
So we leave with our heads hanging
We too will give up on the quest.

Read this poem on Tumblr. Itching

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