Voices

It's a shame that some are never alone,
Always in company of loud conversation.
Innermost monologues, gestured by voices,
Negativity, delusions, degeneration.

I walk these halls of painted malice,
With voices as the president of my own nation.
"I've done something great, be proud!"
"Of what? They don't care. You got no attention."

Fight the fight and keep moving on,
"You've no power on me, I deserve my elation!"
"Fair enough, but look at their eyes,
They're judging and thinking, 'this fat fucking cretin.'"

Years of war with these wraiths,
Pelting and pushing in the back of perception,
Because I know I'm not worthless,
The thoughts are fallacious, just a character poison.

But the shield is betrayed,
Soon to crack like the countenance of porcelain,
You're alone and unloved,
Neglected, rejected; joy, a humorous notion.

"They're not in the bathroom, they wanted to leave,
You're boring, annoying, just grant them reprieve.
Why do you persist to look optimistic?
When you house all these demons, yourself most specific?"

Really, I do, I know they're all lies,
But sometimes it's just so damn hard to decide,
Which reality is real, which one coincides,
With what's going on now, right on the outside...

And to think...no one would ever imagine...
That I'm so very content with this detrimental regime,
Since I'm happy and smiling, real joy in between.
Maybe now you can see, what cannot be seen...