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I truly can't believe what I am really seeing.
In the shadow darkness is there a shadowed being.
Open my eyes as wide as can be, to illuminate the night. 
Questioning my wavered sanity, which brings up this fight. 
Is what I hear from something near, a real like human voice? 
I listen in when it begins, I no longer have a choice. 
I can clearly hear within my own open ears.
Pushing on my thoughts, consuming intruding fears.
If I ever catch it in the act, this fu*ker shadow that won't move an inch.
When I watch, wait and listen, my jaws they begin to tightly clench.
But deep within my mind, I know the difference of, that in which I question. 
Cause in reality and in daylight I realize it's of my own invention. 
I need to regain control, 
Take the pills that let me know. 
That its all in my head. 
But it always forms itself when I'm lying in bed.
I know I heard it aloud and clear, exactly what it spoke.
The fact that I am schizo, even without the puddled choke.
It's all so mucked up, these voices sound exactly like someone I heard before.
Almost like a few of my close friends, speaking beyond a closed door.
Talking about things in demeaning words, a conversation that has intention. 
But I question the reality of the whole thing, cause I know it's my dementia reflection. 
I shouldn't contemplate the silence within my mind. 
Cause each time I drift off in a daze, that's when I will find. 
That these voices of the internal realm.
Are really just me behind the helm. 
Dwell on a spell, I fell in a well, the bell wrung in hell, so I sail with ale, and smell this tale, Then tell this to quell, and as always prevail, prevail, prevail.

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