Once, I had a vision. I knew I would change.
I knew that the voices were more
than just voices.
They were a calling.
I don't know where they've come from,
these feelings of the dread.
Like demons scorching me,
as these voices in my head!
People in my shadows. To those I give my trust.
What they say behind my back
is just as good as dust.
Though I know this, I'm alone,
yet I feel this obligation...
It's as if I hear their voices,
cursing me with degradation!
Still, I am afraid. And still, I don't know why.
"It is as we choose to be, the voices never lie."
What the voices say, all badness in my head.
I can't escape this inner hell,
these feelings of the dread!
Each day and night I'm trapped
as I think about my friends;
Of where our paths shall lead us,
when this road should come to end.
These thoughts that dwell inside me,
these voices in my head;
All wicked and such dreadful thoughts.
When will all this end?
I stir and wake within my sleep,
this nightmare as it haunts me.
The voices in my head grow more,
cursing as they taunt me!
With rage that boils deep inside,
sometimes I just break;
As my eyes go red, my mind berserk,
and common sense is blank!
It's been a while since that's happened,
since that day I went insane,
when I'd blocked against my father's hand
and sent him back some pain!
That memory, that vision, that nightmare
in my head!
That VOICE that keeps on calling me
with these thoughts so full of dread!
I can't break free, my soul is tied,
though I know that I must live.
I don't know why, I mustn't die.
I've something I must give.
One day, someday, maybe soon
I will not think as much,
and waste away this life I have
on small things of the such.
At times I see, at times I don't,
the life that I am missing.
Just flush away the life at hand,
with all this time I'm *******.
It angers me to know and see,
and still to take the bait;
To escape for just a second more,
and forget the things I hate,
but wait...
For a short time had it lasted,
to be free of all this stress;
At times I still feel good inside,
but still I am a mess.
The voices grow in number,
calling me to die;
To see the darker sides of things,
spewing forth their lies.
The voices taunt and whisper,
showing me the bad.
They recall of my insanity,
and of my poor old man.
For as long as I have love,
and as long as I have hope,
I will fight to block them out,
and with these feelings cope...
"But what's the point in loving,
for feelings all depressed?"
spat the voices with their badness,
I shall never find my rest...
Yet the voices cloud away
as I smoke another bowl.
I've been high as hell all day,
but I haven't reached my goal.
God bless my mother and father, who helped me to be better than I might have been. Without poetry; Without a way of expressing myself, I'd be lost to the fleeting voices of my screaming mind.