You twist the blades in just the right places to make me numb.
You’ll say I asked for this and to be honest,
It wouldn’t surprise me if I did.
There are whispers stuck in my shadow except they’ve learned to call it their home.
I’ve tried to cut them off in the same way that I’ve tried to cut off the extra masses hanging from my stomach.
Maybe if I starve myself long enough, my shadow will become so small that the voices will be forced to leave.
They’ve settled within the coldness of my shadow and have learned to embrace the darkness of it.
They speak in tones that I can’t unhear
and suggest permanent plans to relieve the pain.
I keep trying to shut them out but they multiple in volume.
I’ve tried to speak truth over their lies,
But the truth is a muted and muzzled dog.
It may want to fight, but it has no power.
They say that there’s nothing I can do to get rid of them so I better learn to just listen.
I’m in agreement with them now and somehow I’m not afraid of it.
I’m not afraid of the plans that they suggest to me because maybe everybody else would be better off.
I’m not afraid of their whispers because they’ve become my only source of friendship.
Their voices echo through my mind the same way that a skipped rock will ripple the entire lake.
Drop by drop, it’s moved along.
Whisper by whisper, I’m convinced more.
They’ve taught me to settle in the coldness.
They’ve taught me to embrace the darkness.
I don’t go anywhere without my shadow now,
I don’t go anywhere without the familiar voices that have lead me home.
I’m almost gone from here, I’m almost there, and with every step, they’re guiding me.