I hate myself
it's at night time the whispers are the loudest,
they speak of my indecision,
my inability to articulate my emotions,
my weakness, my futile tears, my numbness, my unfaithfulness,
I hate myself*
it's just as things are going well,
that the voices return,
from their leave of absence,
they're kind at heart, don't you see,
they allow me to bring myself up, to try,
to almost get there,
before creeping up on me
I detest what I am
the most abhorrent thing about the voices,
you really want to know?
it's not that they come from
within, though that too is tough,
it's the fact that I hear him in them, and know that he
was right all along.