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.