Life with voices in your head can suck, but writing down their conversations bring poetry.

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With sorrow and pain,
Her mind drifts away,
For she can't see the beauty of her nature,
With voices in her head unable to process, 
Those never ending fights with unseen sights,
She stands alone with darkness at her side,
Below the surface trembling like a dog,
Her fear is unspoken words,
Never leaving her side but oh how she wishes, 
With regrets and regards she lifts her hear head up, 
With pain and confusion she pulls back her shoulder,
With strength and courage she walks,
Always listening to the voices inside her head, 
Never would she stop singing the songs inside her mind,
With a tired soul she wonders off,
Maybe tonight she'll sleep,
Maybe tonight she'll fade,
Maybe tonight is the last time,
Maybe tomorrow will be empty,
Maybe she'll give up, 
Cut away her scars,
Leave behind this mortal skin,
And walk with her ancestors.
Maybe she's tired, 
From listening to everyone,
But being told to sit quiet and pretty,
Not a sound but the voices in her head.

By Marina Vos

From: South Africa