I always hear voices right at the back of my head:
by Danny The Dreamer Boyd
It's not pleasant at all when they seek my fall;
It seems they'll be much happy, more fine if I'm dead.
I hear voices always that are not amiable at all!
I listen to the voices advising me of hate,
And several other things that cleanse souls in soot:
To bring the ultimate me, and my conscience but sedate:
To live happily, be free, and my inner voice mute!
I tend to hear voices when I'm trying to be at peace,
And they keep on whispering, 'Beware the passing time! '
I really don't need what doth my quiet decrease,
Or darkens my light, or crimsons my clime!
I sit alone in the dark in hope to not voices hear;
Yet the voices there do hark to all my thoughts unsaid,
Or speak out loud what doesn't to the bare eye appear.
I hear demonic voices that sear my sense and shred!
I thought the voices were but only at the back;
Then I looked in the mirror and no one I could see!
I feared that I was blind from all the saneness slack,
Then wished that I were blind, or else awake not be!
Instead of just hearing, for a change I tried to speak:
Yet sensed similar tones with those I heard before;
I really wished that mine own voice would sound unique,
But as many which are worthless; like richness to the poor!
I always hear voices in the back of my head:
But it's quite pleasant not being alone out there;
The path doesn't seem though that bright ahead:
From all the voices that I just can't compare!