I am not crazy,
But the voices of the past, present and future
Crowd my brain with their opinions.
It's like a party up there,
And I am quite okay with that.

Burning buildings,
Whispered tones.
They want to keep me in the dark.
Or tell me some neon white lies.

And yet there is this screaming in my head.
It says, You know something they do not.
Naturally, my response, sarcastically, sounds something like,
"And what would that be, my love?"

You've been to Hell and back,
We both know that well enough.
But you gained something on every voyage.
With every adventure,
You came back with renewed life.

I scoff, quite noticeably.
What's that got to do with me?
I tuck things away,
I do not carry them with me.
Not all the time, anyway.

It yells, bellows, continuously.
You are learning who you are.
You are a survivor, a hero, something beautiful.
They have not hindered you yet, and will not.
Shout it at the top of your lungs.

So I do.
And the screaming in my head is replaced by a new voice:
Mine.