Evil Choirs

And when the choir falls silent,
when the voice inside your head cease
their shrill caws of anger, of
self-debasement, of hell carried in your mind
like a beast of burden;

when the siren song of the forbidden
ceases its chorus of temptation,
and becomes a hushed voice of,
if not reason, at least peace;

when the doubt dies down to a barely audible
whisper;

then, and only then, you can hear it,
the sweet truth of your own value,
singing

in a gentle voice,
so easily overcome, and yet persistent,
and always,
oh yes, always,
true.

About this poem.

Be selective, very selective, when listening to the voices in your head. If they don’t proclaim your value…. they lie.

Been there. Done that.

Tom