My Poetry

Voices

Every so often at night,

As I lay in my bed

Alone, the voices start

Talking in my head.

Think of me mad,

But they fancy me dead.

These voices are unique,

All one of a kind,

And every single one of them,

Wrapped up in my mind.

But they cloud my senses,

Making me blind.

I don't know when they started,

Or whence they came,

But they toy with my mind,

As if it were a game.

Thinking of it now,

Am I the one to blame?

I listen to them telling me

Things like right from wrong.

I used to ignore them

But the voices are far too strong.

Think of me mad,

But they've been here all along.

For I am the voices,

And the voices am I.

Created by me,

To give me a reason why.

Like an imaginary friend,

But one that went awry.

What used to be a part of me,

Simply turned too shy.

Nobody can help me.

There's no one to rely

On but the voices

Who have done nothing but

Imply

That they fancy nothing more,

Than for me to die.

So as the night draws nearer,

And the loneliness creeps in,

The voices start talking to me,

Again and again.

Soon, one of these nights,

I don't know when,

The voices in my mind

Will eventually win

And on that night,

My room therein,

Will be a lonely girl

Who only once had been.