Voices Around Me

I'm dreaming in the day,
at night, I'm awake in full sway.
The voices mutter to me.
Photos. Holidays. Friends. Freaks.
I can touch the sounds that I see,
as they tease me in glee.
Some familiar, some not known,
this voice is the only moan.
I try to communicate.
Can you hear me?
They don't indicate.

The ruckus continues,
intervening my muse.
It's a symphony of joy and gladness,
while my ballad is dead from the madness.
Once in every illusion,
the conductor dictates the actions,
the signal for silence.
The voice plays Marco Polo,
as everyone has to try and follow.
Except for me,
for this was the ballad,
for the sad sea.
My own voice.

It's slowly fading,
the facade.
The voice trapped inside the cage,
waiting to be unleashed,
onto the stage.
The voices come back.
All merry-go-round for all.
All except for mine.
I see it in a sombre stare.
It wants to be released from my care.
The voices say farewell,
out of the threshold of the dwell.

But this voice can only be heard,
inside my brimmed hollow head.