Are They why I’m all alone;
Why I’m in a padded cell?
Alone, hearing Them all day,
Driving me further over the edge?

They tell me to break out;
Tell me to refuse being needled.
And…I’m starting to think--
I think I should fight back.

Do the Voices make me mad?

How do I shut Them up,
When all I hear is silence?
The silence--the deafening silence--
That wants to swallow me whole?

They tell me things, bad things--
Things I should do to the Big Man.
Prick him with his own needle,
And bury him under the padding.

The Voices are driving me insane.

They talk to me constantly,
Shielding me from the silence.
Maybe I owe this favour to Them,
Maybe I should do the bad things.

The Voices that only I can hear,
They are my only friends.
They protect me from the silence,
Like a mother protects her young.

The Voices are all I have left.