Every so often at night,

as  I lay in my bed

Alone, the voices

start  talking in my head.

Think of me mad,

But they fancy me dead.


These voices are unique,

All one of a kind.

And every single one of them,

wrapped up in my mind.

But they cloud my senses,

And make me blind.


I don’t know when they started,

Or where they came from.

But they play with my mind,

As if it were a toy.

Thinking of it now,

Am I the one to blame?


I listen to them telling me

Things like right from wrong.

I used to ignore them,

But the voices are far too strong.

Think of me mad,

But they’ve been here all along.


For I am the voices,

And the voices am I.

Created by me,

To give a me reason why.

Like an imaginary friend,

But one that gone away.

What used to be part of me,

Simply turned too sly.

Nobody can help me,

There’s no one to rely

On but the voices.

Who have done nothing but imply,

That they fancy nothing more,

Than for me to die.


So as the night roars nearer,

And the loneliness creeps in,

The voices start talking to me,

Again and again.

Soon, one of these nights,

I don’t know when,

The voices in my mind,

Will eventually win.

My room therein,

Would lie a lonely girl,

Who only once had been.