People think
That I can't scare.

But I'm terrified.
Always.
Because they can't see
What lies beneath.

I'm scared of silence.
Of them talking and screaming.
I'm scared of not having control.
Of not being able to help or save.

But most of all
I'm scared of losing control.
Losing me.
Of what happens after.

I'm terrified of me.

Tears on cheeks
And tears in cheeks.
Tears on the carpet
Some water,
Some blades.

Why are they so soft?
You could fall asleep in them.
They're warm when they're fresh.
But they are put down.
Left behind.
Always negative.
Always destructive.
But they can preserve.
And they feel so soft.
So light.
Like downy feathers
Torn from destruction.
Why are they hated?
Because we need ashes
To rise.

Why are people so scared of you?
And why do they avoid you?
We don't know
Not what happens
Once you knock.
Why do you?
You probably know what you do.
You ruin so many lives.
Do you not care?
Or do you enjoy it?
Either way.
I'm not scared of you.

What the ****.
Seriously.
All this time
And you come up with us?
Papery
Weak
Vulnerable.
All we have is our brains.
And those don't even work.
At least not all the time.
So tell me.
What are you?
Are you the greatest gift?
Or the most terrible curse?

They talk rarely.
Only when they know.
THEY WILL BE HEARD.
In the quietest moments.
In the happiest moments.
In the most tense,
And the most relaxing.
But always,
THEY WILL BE HEARD.
They won't let me shut them out.
Won't let me drown them out.
They won't SHUT UP.
They keep screaming.
Keep whispering.
And I can't stop them.
THEY WILL BE HEARD.
Because they are me.
They are the voices in my head.
They are my curse.
And the curse will not end.

I'm afraid of silence.
Actually, genuinely afraid.
Because for me,
It isn't silent.