Voices

Am I safe within my own skin?

Locked here inside the same sheathe

Housing a mind so full of sin

…

I try to escape the voices, the dreams

But they follow me wherever I go

Threatening to rip me apart at the seams

…

I try to smile and nod at those who wave

As insidious whisperers insist I gouge out their eyes

Yes, Mommy, truly I try to behave

…

Take the matches, the can of gasoline

Lock the church doors, Ignite a conflagration

Then dance a gleeful merry row obscene

…

A little girl out on the street, hair so fine

Sweet rosy cheeks, a smile so innocent

Begs to be flayed, her warm glance a sure sign

…

NO! Don’t do it the second voice cries

The quieter voice, drowned neath the bedlam

Begs me no, but anymore it barely vies

…

I wake, shivering from night terrors, clammy with sweats

Wherein I gloried in mayhem, violence, death

Set the world afire and place your bets

…

Grabbing my head, I try to push them aside

Screaming, yelling, the voices to obscure

But within my own skin, nowhere to hide

…

Lips chapped, skin hot, feverish, manic

Why is there a butcher knife sitting there?

I see the blood, my brain in a panic

…

Last night I gave in, unable to resist

Her little corpse on the floor; so pale, so cold

Within the horrific glory I did subsist

…

I heeded at last the call, the insistent urge

She was walking home, alone, young, tender

Now she’s just meat on which dogs may splurge

…

Am I guilty? Is it my fault?

Or is it Dad’s, whose voice keeps whispering

From deep within my past’s once locked vault

…

I hear the bullhorns, police dogs baying

I pick up the blade, sharp, deadly, beautiful

As it enters my forearm, I hear mom praying

…

No one is safe when I’m in my own skin

So now I’ll exit, depart this hell in which I exist

Turns out my own shell is truly quite thin