The Scourge of Inner Voices
By: Ann Christine Tabaka

Tangled substance, devoured by grief.
Rotted words of loss.
Turning hither, turning yon,
disoriented ploy of emotion.
Trapped in fear,
no exit for escape.
You haunted me for twenty years,
I will not let you win.
This time shall be your last.
I want to ask myself why,
but the answer will not come.
Does anyone ever know?
Cut in half,
cut in thirds.
Dark mystery resides within,
eroding my will to resist.
The scourge of inner voices,
that tell me I am wrong,
I am not good enough.
You will not own me anymore.
I choose the door,
with a sign that reads


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