As I sit here in agony,
There are voices,
Talking to me.
Whispering horrible choices-
But I have to choose.
They're closing in on me,
Surrounding me.
Screw it- I can't breathe.
I have to end the voices in my head,
So naturally, I go to the box underneath my bed,
And drown some of them,
In my blood that I shed,
Seeping into the hem
Of my once beautiful sweater.
The voices go away for then,
But who knows for how long?
By the time I count to ten,
They could already be chanting another terrible song.
