Voices calling in the dark.

They keep me awake.

Sleep has once again escaped.

What have a I done to deserve this ugly part.

I guess I know deep down what it is I've done.
I won't admit it though.

Even if what they're are saying makes me feel so low.

For so long I have been subjected to their fun.

For there is something these voices say that rings true.

Something that I did.

Something that I sealed away in a jar with a tight lid.
So this is what it has come to.

These voices tarnishing my once pretty thoughts.

Tearing me apart until I can offer no more.

But maybe these voices aren't just in the night, maybe the also live right next door.

Maybe they use pans and pots.

Maybe they they can talk and walk.

Maybe they are more like me than I know.

Maybe I have heard their whispers before and they are reiterated in the late nights moon's glow.

Perhaps I have seen them peering out the window when they gawk.

Perhaps the voices aren't as fake as they seem.

Maybe it is the human race itself that has made me this way.

And they keep me up at night for a sick game they play.

"Please, I didn't do it!" I scream.

Too bad the knife was already embedded in my spleen.