Orators in my head
Have no manners  

Talking all at once
They rattle with words
 
The jittery winged
Roaches rustle in the muck  

Do I free them from their torment
Keep them from a muddy grave  

My end of day frequency makes them scramble
Resisting the taste of my voice, they take flight  

Their torn broken wings flapping fast making
Slanted silhouettes as they slip out of sight  

A muted buzz follows the wind through the trees
Sleep is now a whisper away