Second Skin

Days go by, sometimes white and red.
Voices keep talking, inside my head,
Some full of laughter, some full of pain.
Echoing and pounding, they stretch and strain.
I say something, they hear something else.
Opposites collide, tangents align themselves.
And when it hurts too much, I slip this skin.

The voices no longer whisper, the tears dry unshed.
The cruel whispers are silent, hopefully dead.
Silence serenades, no shouts or screams.
Colours have transformed into a beautiful, pearly sheen.
Time floats by, the day is painful no more,
Red recedes, the blue silent waves lap the shore.
I am you and you are me.

Night is coming, the sun fades away,
The mysterious moon is dawning, so ends the day.
I keep walking, whistling fragmentary tunes to myself
Suddenly someone clamps my mouth, I can’t scream help.
I am pushed roughly against a stony, dirty wall,
The stranger forces, shuttered windows, no one to call.
The hands of mine push, he slips, he falls.
The throat I claw, he thrashes, then no longer moves at all.
I see his eyes; they no longer do see mine.
Danger is gone, now I am fine.

I stand up straight, I stand up tall.
The sinful dead, another joins the Dark hall.
I start walking, the night is beautiful once more.
Whistling resumes, fragments I encore.
I look at my hands, they have blood-how could it be?
I am unhurt and yet no one I did see.
I was walking back home and no one stopped my way.
It was another uneventful, colourless day.
The voices start again, clamouring to break free.
I am you and you are me.