They won't let me write what I want to say,
scared to let it out...
Keeping them silent. All. The. Time.
'Who?' *one will ponder*
...the voices, of course!
Yet I know it's just me,
the two voices in my head.
Everybody has them...
r
i
g
h
t
?
'What's to be scared of?' pondering no one "asks" again!
And I've known all the time... The ugly Truth! She will rear her head.
Heed my Truth.
But no, NO! It's never pretty. She's aged now and no longer enticing.
No matter how you want to paint it with your words.
It all happened, and you are different...
It's not always light.
Everything, a perfect blend of muddy gray.
But she's welcome at my table, this hideous Truth, for she is here all the time just the same.
