My head is a haunted house.
Shut up, I say to the voices that
Whisper, lie, insinuate.
I am not evil.
I am not bad.
I am not accursed
Of God. I was
Born like this.
But the voices speak too
Loudly and drag me down
Into the black pit.
I am lost.
Does anyone have
A candle, compass
And map?
I want to sing.
I want to dance.
But all around me are
Silence and the
Voices in my head.
Copyright 1997, Bud Polk
