Voices;

 

The surroundings are quiet;

Nothing to breach the peace.

 

But as I watch the flowers wither,

And the leaves that fall;

I can hear it all, clear and trying to interfere.

 

The silence continues;

But not for me.

 

As the words, and voices...

Make their way to me.

They say not to think about it-to not ponder and worry about it;

But what can I do, when they speak to me-when it scares me;

My own self,

Trying to make me believe.

 

It is hard-to get over them:

They are never tired;

Never afraid,

Never-all together,

In pieces, they make-

Like an army of insects...

They crawl at my skin,

They pull, and bite,

Me from within.

 

I wish for the quiet;

But not inside me...

Cause they continue to haunt-

And make me agree.