The Whispering Doubt

The voices in my head jump ahead,
spinning webs of distrust, threads of dread.
They whisper lies that twist and bend,
turning truth into shadows that never end.

Tales they tell, so sly, so keen,
distorting what I’ve heard, what I’ve seen.
They sway me aside, pull me astray,
leading me further from light of day.

The echoes grow louder, they drown my voice,
leaving me lost, without a choice.
Who can I trust, if not myself?
These voices linger like demons on a shelf.

Twisting the truth, they taunt and deceive,
planting doubts I’m forced to believe.
A flicker of faith, a moment so brief,
is shattered by whispers that feed my grief.

How do I silence the chaos inside,
when the voices dance, when they collide?
They push me forward, then pull me back,
filling my mind with a panic attack.

For every truth, a shadow is cast,
turning my present into a haunted past.
I fight to hold onto what’s real and clear,
but the voices return, feeding my fear.

Swaying me aside, they laugh as I fall,
trapping me deeper behind my own wall.
A prisoner to thoughts that never relent,
a soul in turmoil, a mind so bent.

Yet still, I seek a moment of peace,
a way to make the inner torment cease.
To reclaim my mind, to clear the air,
to silence the whispers that breed despair.

But the voices persist, they will not fade,
casting shadows where light was made.
And so I fight, a battle unseen,
against the voices that twist the serene.