Her Inner Dialogue
An inner voice narrated her life;
It began to chronicle every happenstance,
each ordinary event
as if there were indeed a story unfolding
toward a nagging judgement of her being.
It chastised, painted her as a victim.
The Teller had always related
her biography, as a subdued commentary,
but now it openly opined
upon every irrelevant misstep.
It began to take upon itself an authorship
she had let slip from her mind.
The voice itself became a thing apart,
the woman blushed as if she had been discovered
speaking naked behind an invisible microphone.
She hoped that inner voice
would one day convince her
that she was really smart and beautiful.
It never did.
I warned her to change that voice
for we all have the power to do so,
yet she kept listening to its carping speech
and claimed to hear none other.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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