Isaac Jones
Writer | Nashville, TN
Conversations With Myself
I am the voice
ringing behind ears,
attempt to block out
with song, book, and years.
I am the fear,
seduction,
a decision and moment,
make or break you.
I am the past,
enshrined in my persona,
every mistake
cloaked in hate.
I am the doubt,
the insecurity,
the feelings,
forever alone.
I am innocence stolen,
collected and buried
in Mason jars of memories.
I am the failure
lurking
around the corner,
waiting to snatch
your soul.
I am words manipulated,
lies, idols worshipped
in both spirit and in truth.
I am the present,
all tears and fears
that drag you down
and make you cry out,
laying on your kitchen floor.
I am the scars personified,
wrestling with you,
trying to subdue
attempts to escape.
I am the second chance
to mend scars
on wrist and heart.
I am the multitude of thoughts
orbiting around
your brain
in rapid, irratic circles.
I am the desire for love,
ideological hopes and dreams
sit just out the reach
of finger tips.
I am the sum
of all you've done,
culminating into collision,
the crash and burn
in your brain.
I am your future
shrouded in mystery,
you think you know,
reality not yet tangible.
I am death,
my bells are tolling,
my clock is ticking,
and time is running
out of your grasp
into my very grip.
I am you
Past,
Present,
Future,
I am you,
you are me,
only one of us can be.