I feel alone
But not always
The voices
The sadistic, vile voices.
They keep me company.
Like any child raised in a church
You begin to get used to talking how they do.
Copying their words
Mimicking their actions
Wearing what they wear.
No, my voices don’t sing hymns.
They don’t wear Sunday’s best.
They don’t plaster on a friendly smile.
But they also don’t compare me to the other girls.
I think..
They don’t talk about me behind my back.
Or do they?
No, No. They don’t flaunt my secrets.
They wouldn’t.. Right?
Church people are different then voices.
Much different...