The Voice Inside My Head

I saw him by the window; he was gazing through the glass. 

He wore a look of wonder as he watched the people pass.

In that moment he seemed perfect, in his own exquisite class--

a masterpiece of beauty I am sure few could surpass.



"And you could never have him!" shrieked the voice inside my head. 

"Who would ever want you, boy? You might as well be dead!

Just face the fact you're all alone," the little demon said.

"You'll live alone and die alone and no tears will be shed."



I did not want to hear it, and I tried to block the voice,

but I realized very quickly that I did not have a choice.

I would never have a minute, not one minute to rejoice.

I would always have to listen to that wicked little voice.



He still stood there by the window. How I ached to talk to him!

Just a simple conversation, a break from the paradigm.

But the voice had reared its ugly head; the prospect now was grim.

Today and all tomorrows grew a darker shade of dim.



Now I would not approach him; I'd go home alone instead,

because I paid attention to the voice inside my head.

For now and ever after I live with a sense of dread-- 

the constant battered prisoner of the voice inside my head

.