Dear Friends,
While stretching my craft, I thought I’d step into character; a schizophrenic in Victorian England.
The experience has been enlightening, if a little disturbing, but above all enjoyable, but that’s literacy…
Therefore, a piece of pure fiction – really? Oh, I’ll let you decide…
Steve
Twas the voices in my head – No, not I but them, they and me
- The voices are in my head
Pic Courtesy: /healthculturesociety.wikispaces.com
Twas I a lonely lad
Without a friend – sad
But for the whispering voices
But for their whispering choices
§
They whispered steal cash
They whispered rip and dash
Twas the voices in my head you see
Their voices in my bed – not me
§
Together we’re a serial killer
Together we’re a real thriller
But twas not me, I cry
Twas my friends, not I
§
I recall the day they were born
While I lied, blamed and scorn
The demise of my loved one
Beneath the rising sun
§
For as I plead through time
Plead with you through rhyme
“Please don’t let them out,” I shout
For their thought’s be their’s not mine
§
May get better my Mother did say
May get better my Father did pray
But as their voices scream out – I sigh
But why can’t you hear them? – I cry
§
Tis the voices of the faithful dead
Ravaging, raging through my head
We’ve committed many a murder you see
No! Not I; but them, they and me
§
As I awaken beneath the rising sun
Torn flesh, bloody mess and an empty gun
I scream at the voices in my head and cry
Oh dear God, what have we done?
Oh dear God, why oh why oh why?
§
Please father forgive our sin
For I truly loved my next of kin
For they committed the murder you see
No! Not I, but them, they and me
§
For as I plead through time
Plead with you through rhyme
“Please don’t let them out,” I shout
For their thought’s be their’s not mine
§
For as they lied and plotted; I did rue
For I tried to stop, left you many a clue
For I just wanted them caught
Because I was so very distraught
§
For twas I wanted you to catch
While bodies burnt wit a match
I feared the faithful raging undead
Feared the unfaithful rage in my head
§
And as they made me bludgeon
Spilt blood with his own truncheon
You must lock us away I did say
Within your deepest, darkest dungeon
§
For twas not I, but them, they and me
For twas not I, but together you must see
That we’ve been one bloody serial killer
That we’ve been a real dirty evil thriller
§
For as I plead through time
Plead with you through rhyme
“Please don’t let them out,” I shout
For their thought’s be their’s not mine
§
And finally you found my new clue
Thankfully as our penance so long overdue
And so now we’re all wrapped up tight
I lay here mourning from noon till night
§
Lay like tied infants in a cot
Lay awake as more evil do they plot
The voices of the faithful dead
Raging, nagging through my head
§
And as I lay awake that night
While others scream and fright
I listen till the early morn
Of other voices of the scorn
§
“For tis time to leave nay,”
Two men in white coats say
With their bloodied, torn seams
Dragged beyond other’s dry throats
From a night of such awful screams
§
For as I plead through time
Plead with you through rhyme
“Please don’t let them out,” I shout
For their thought’s be their’s not mine
§
As we walk beyond the stench
Of the awful grizzling Wench
“Stand there,” He doth say,
“For no last rites you deserve
As no souls did you preserve”
§
With no time left to pray
I hear a rasp, then a gasp
And with no slack, a crack
§
For the voices I knew would stay
Were it not now for today
As our heavy body does sway
And my mind drifts away
§
Father tucks me in and doth pray
And my Mother’s soft voice does say,
“My dear your only real friends
Are those whom Jesus sends.”
§
For I now know, heart aglow
As they scream and I do sigh
That today is the day
The day that we will die.
© SR Clarke X
Steve Clarke's Diary 