Inner Voice

Inside my head—your fortress

Needles and razors kiss, I feel—

Nervous; I pour out no words.

End of the story, I say: “Maktub”

Rolling stone, fate will stop you.

Velvet to my skin, hush, blades;

O’ sweet pal, and my worst foe,

I am but a frail marionette is all.

Censor, whisper in my ear again,

Enjoy my brain, but do not shout.