I don't make deals.
Not with the devil.
My head is level.
You can't scramble my mind.
Organization is what you'll find.

It is too good to be true.
Decline all offers.
Refuse to be a published author.
I don't need the critics.
Someone will always disagree.
With who or what I choose to be.
My beliefs are mine.
My morals conflict & controverse.
I no longer have to try.
I do not need to be in the public eye.
I prefer private eyes.
The whole world doesn't need to love me.
Or even like or know me.
I no longer want to be number one.
Or anyone's favorite, I am Ariel's mom.
You can have the glory.
My thoughts burn & simmer.
I don't need to be a best seller or a winner.

The voices of pain tourmenting him,

The voices of tempation destroying him inside and out,

The voices of his traumatised soul ripping his heart to shreds,

Images of the horrible situations of his past life,

The horrible voices of the ones who hurt him bouncing around his head

"Fight, Stay down, keep going, youre worthless, you never do anything right, youre strong, youre weak, youll never make it, save everyone, you cant even save yourself, stand strong, you will fall."

The voices that controverse eachother,

What should he follow,

Is he weak or is he strong,

Someone believes in him,

That voice of encouragement never fails him,

It always guides him right.