A Prompting

Something tells me I must write,

Or perhaps someone;

My muse? God?

A schizophrenic episode?

 

I sit in silence, voices scream in my head,

Too many voices, jumbled words.

Slowly evolving into dictation,

Deciphering my legion of messengers.

 

At first, nothing makes sense,

Meaning uncertain, devoid of form.

But soon a sentence takes shape,

And a story is born.

 

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