There's always Hope

My little brother once said, 

‘You should really hate the voices in your head’ 

I smile and get lost in thought 

As I go back to stare at the ceiling 

The blue wall scattered with red paint 

How do I tell him, 

I’ve not found something as intriguing  

As the emptiness that comes along

With the voices on the ceiling

A plain wall evolving into different shapes

Yet resonating one emotion – a numbness 

A feeling I thought I wasn’t home to anymore

How do I tell him, 

I think about the days I’ve almost said something

Almost. 

How different my life would’ve been 

Those lost words , the unrejected silence 

An impending doom, a longing memory 

A subtle desperation, a hopeless future 

A spinning wheel, a blank space

A feeling foreign yet so familiar 

How do I call him for help, 

To help it stop 

Before this unnamed disease runs its course through my veins 

And reeks my heart of vile

And stains my eyes in monochrome

But how do I tell him , 

The voices are a part of me

Like a layer of skin that I am unable to shed 

How do I tell him, 

There’s no hate to a friend that overstayed their welcome

There’s no hate to something that belongs to me.