Hearing...

Acidity burning my inside like an inferno of pain and anguish.

Being told.

Hearing things.

Feeling cold.

The resonance shaking the centre of my brain with no release.

You chose.

I hurt.

I lose.

Each to their own, but why hear my style?

I'll escape.

This is not solid.

Nor t'is fate.

((Dedicated to music... Very vague, but each person has their own choices, and certain choices of one may damage the mind of another...))