What is the voice in your head?
Is it your conscience?
Is it you?
Is it God?
Can you trust your senses?
Can you trust your heart when your head fails?
Can you trust yourself?
There is no rythym to this poem. I am certaintly not saying that poetry must rhyme but it should have some sort of flow to it. This is a very cutting piece with no energy whatsoever. The ideas have potential but the poem should be scrapped.
"You, who have all the passion for life that I have not? You, who can love and hate with a violence impossible to me? Why you are as elemental as fire and wind and wild things..." — Gone With the Wind