The voice inside my head,
it tells me things.
With the confusion and anger it brings,
Mocking me it sings,
I shouldn't be here,
You'd be better off if I were dead.
The voice, it shouts at me,
reminding me of the things I've done,
reminding me I'm pathetic and weak,
reminding me my romanticized future,
is nothing I'll achieve,
all I deserve, if I survive,
is a life most bleak.
The voice tells me it's my fault,
I agree and respond,
fueling the mood,
Ah, that's a mighty fine wound,
here, let me add some salt.
Does it hurt?
The words and actions I've created,
do they tug at strings of a heart most jaded?
Do my thoughts circle in your head until they're hated?
Do they twirl and dance
and spit in your face,
do they laugh at you and call you names,
teasing and prodding, playing sensitive games?
Does your voice spin and bounce
around inside your head,
does it whisper quietly,
once I've gone to bed?
Do you hear it too,
does it get to you?
Does it make your skin crawl,
to be trapped in and endless brawl,
of what is right and what is wrong?
Does it sing to you?
An endless torturous song,
that's been around for oh so long,
I want the voice to stop,
I want it to be gone.
I wonder will it ever leave,
and grant me a little bit of peace,
a fraction of freedom from the ice I feel,
I'm afraid the answer is quite real,
I believe that fate will seal the deal.
One day the voice will leave
by my demand,
all its hateful words will turn to sand.
I will tell it to go and be on its way,
and though many times I've tried before,
I know the way to finally slam the door,
when you find me with my face down on the floor,
you will know,
I can't hear the voice anymore.
. . .
No, I'll never **** myself.
Though inner peace is all I truly seek,
I clearly see the havoc I would wreak.
No, I cannot end my life.
Instead I'll draw in a breath,
followed by another,
I'll put my smile back in place,
and tuck away my thoughts for me to keep,
as the voice softly sings me back to sleep.
