There are so many voices speaking inside my head,
whispering words that don’t make much sense.
Only when I pause in living I begin to understand,
that this tangle of voices is making me mad.
Mad to write down all the mutterings I hear,
seeing them appear like ghosts on blank paper
making me tremble in fear.
I could not, for the life of me, find the words
that these voices are saying in my ear,
on my own inside the other side of me.
Furiously I write to still the buzzing of voices,
each clamoring to be heard above the din.
My hand is already shaking, tired but still writing,
trying to race the words that keep on flowing,
from the voices whispering inside my head.
-The Elusive Scribe 071713-