distillation

I listen,

I accept,

I sit and stew. 

The hollow whispers

of my mind,

pressing against my skull,

splintering my insides,

they claw their way through me,

tearing shreds through my core.

They scream beneath flesh,

choking on what I ignore;

but the whispers are drowned out,

silent and still,

drowned under the practiced smile—

this version of me I distill.

I smile,

I listen,

I accept.

I silence the hollow whispers.