They hiss,

They scream,

Sometimes lower

Than a whisper,

Other times louder than

A foghorn.

Since childhood they

Have haunted his

Mind.

They are difficult to handle

But peaceful overall,

Until he learns that they

Should not exist.

He tries talking them

Away by therapists.  They

Raise their volume to

Remind him that they

Will not leave,

Will never fade.

Drugs are suggested

To mute their cries

Of anguish,

Their screams of fury.

They get louder in response.

The dosage rises.

Pill bottles empty.

The voices are silenced

No longer than a week.

Then they begin again,

Vying for his

Attention and making

Up for lost time.

He doesn't sleep at night.

He stays awake,

Begging them to stop,

To leave him be,

Or at least to be happy.

He is ignored.

They continue their screeching,

Until words no longer exist,

Not for them,

And not for him.

He doesn't speak anymore,

Doesn't hear what others say.

He stares off in a daze.

His caretakers hope

That it is quiet in his world.

It never is.