She’s Not Well

Why do I hate me the most?

Why is  the voice in my head of demons not ghosts?

Waking up to music playing in the air vents

And I know they are here visiting again

It’s gonna be a long night

A dance with the devil

Will I silence his knocking

Or smile and  say, “Welcome”

It’s going to be a long night

Sending  that same text,  “I am  scared”

Trusting your reply, “Babe, it’s all in your head.”

While my body is drug down under our bed…

Maybe down here, I can finally sleep safe

Picture myself inside of the grave

Listen as they shovel buckets of dirt

It’s a lovely sound as it means no more hurt

Thud after thud, a melody quite like rain

Peaceful and steady,   then muffled refrain  

Graveyards are places that I always did like to sleep

It’s completely silent, just echoes of time before me

What a comfort it is to just hear nothing

It’s been years since I slept in silence and peace.

But then I come to and I’m still under my bed and the tapping and voices are not in my head

See, my ancestors, my blood—-they knew of this side of life

So some pulled the trigger, some just ran to hide

But looking through pictures I can see it in their eyes, and eyes do not lie-no eyes do not lie

I go on, day in and day out, trying to pray the  voices won’t start to shout

People in town say, “We heard she was ill.” And Momma replies, “No, she’s doing well.”

But the  inner dialogue started when I was so small, the knowing  I’m not worthy to be great, not at all

When they told me stories I really did listen, no half-hearted sentiments, I knew parts of me were missing

Now, I take a pill each morning in my kitchen, to mask the volume of the dark weight that settles in my system

All my life they  warned me,  “Be careful, the devil wants to get you..” 

And I answered them, “At least someone does,” as I pulled my curtains to….

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