You hear it in the dead of night,
A voice that wakes you up in fright,
And tells you that you are no good,
It splits you like a piece of wood.
You hear it as the morning wakes,
A torrid muffle turns to quakes,
Of postulating sedatives,
That weep with toxic negatives.
You hear it as the day goes on,
Your head and heart are feast upon,
By haters who would see you fail,
Each word is but a driving nail.
You hear it in the evening rain,
The drips of grief and guilt and shame,
That drown you in an endless sea,
Of hopelessness and tragedy.
You hear it just before your head,
Lays wearily upon your bed,
The voice still there, an echo’s hiss,
That pulls you into the abyss.
You hear it in your sleep as well,
At times it drags you into hell,
And at the point of death you wake,
Relieved it was your mind’s mistake.
But even though this voice may scheme,
To sabotage your hard fought dream,
There is a rather poignant song,
That tells you, you must, prove them wrong.
© The Complicated Bunny – 08 Oct 2020