The voices in my head,
Sometimes wish that I was dead,
I ask them to be quiet,
But when I do, they riot,
They argue and they fight,
And they keep me up all night,
With their incessant babble,
The descent into the rabble,
I hear the voices shrill,
Those that wish me ill,
The undulating screams,
That haunt the waking dreams,
Pointing fingers, laying blame,
How can I live with shame ?,
Another day, another fail,
The voices yell and wail,
Shouting triumph as I fall,
Army of voice as the wall,
Tormenting me with glee,
And hoping that they’ll see,
Internalised despair,
Not that the voices care,
Each failure gives them voice,
Even when they have a choice,
To be kind, they refrain,
And just increase the strain,
On me, in gleeful hope,
That I’ll fail to cope,
My breakdown they’ll achieve,
And failed life, I’ll leave,
And when I’ve travelled hence,
Only then, will be, silence.
PiecesOfPatrick 