Austen

14

Marie/Evelyn’s adopted daughter (26)

the voices in my head are low whispers -
almost too low to hear,
but I hear them.
their ghostly murmurs,
constantly breathing in my ear.

I try to speak to them,
only receiving glances on the subway.
I try to ignore them.
I’ve tried everything.
but they prevail, never ceasing to torment me.

After years with them at my heels,
it seems as if they have become a comfort.
an assurance of insanity.
a reminder that I am broken.
a reminder that I can’t be fixed.