The Minions

I have been silent.
The pressure of welling words whispers from within and I can no longer stop the torents from tumbling forth.
I must write.
My research, as I have called it, has taken me down dark roads,
to painful places I wish only to wash with words,
What loss.  I am still here.  Eternity by grace I'm sure. 
Fragments of a lives I thought I'd live whirl mischieviously in my head.
Hundreds of plot lines, pushing forward for attention.
Waiting for their endings.
If I do not give them what they want,
They will take me under.
Drown me.
Ironically, they only want to be heard.