The voices of disapproval
Echo in my head.

Your voice is there
Telling me I’m not good enough
That’s it’s my fault
That I’m the one to blame.

The sound plays in a loop
Like a broken record
But there’s no one 
To remove the needle.

The voices of shame
Smother me
Preventing me
from stepping out.

The voices of disappointment
Stop me from trying,
They talk about what 
Should have -
Could have -
But didn’t.

Though not audible to others
They are deafening to me.

I fight them
Try to ignore them
Put them in a box 
And hide them.

But they ooze out
Like a warm, sticky glue
Clogging up my brain space.

I don’t know why I listen
I don’t know why I care

Yet, I wait for someone to 
Pick up the needle 
And bring it to an end.

There is another voice in my head
It’s always been there
It’s quiet and gentle
Easily drowned out

Rarely does it shout
Never does it interrupt
I can only hear it 
In the quiet.

Today, as I sat identifying 
All the other voices
And contemplating my demise
I found a piece of quiet.

Today, my other voice
Gently instructed,
“Pick up the needle 
And get on with it!”