The voice in my head isn't mine alone.

It belongs to the demons that possessed me and never left,
they tell me the fire here is hotter than back home so they sit in my sweat and
eat my misery.

I can be alone with my thoughts but never truly
because their cackles as I try to feel normal are the soundtrack to each day.

I've been trying to love myself more,
my demons like to laugh when I say it.
They can mimic my voice but choose
to be the voices of people I know.

Telling myself that I'm
a good person feels like lying.

My father's voice screams out through Beelzebubs maw and I am a boy again.
Trapped in a buzzsaw of insults and comparisons.
Never good enough to be your
Son.

Unable to find a voice inside of me that
disagrees.

Abaddon tastes the years of misery
caked upon the sides of my bottomless pit,
he takes the voices of my family in his,
forces them to be who they used to,
reminds me that I can't escape what was
by pretending that I am someone new.

The rest of the devil's that breathe within me
play the same games.

All I want to do is tell myself that I'm okay.
To remind myself that the past is not forever.
Those voices screaming out against mine
just don't seem to get any quieter.

Self care is a battle against the past.
Self love is harder than trying to **** myself.