Overthink
There's a voice inside my head;
I've tried to shut her,
over and over again.
She speaks my language,
but I don't want to understand
her painful words that make me feel just average.
She says she knows what's best for me
but she's nothing more than a liar,
because she's just a voice inside my brain.
I'm sick of her talking,
because everywhere I go,
she keeps on her painful talking.
Maybe I should ignore her,
because this is hurting hard inside my chest:
but how will I do this, if she's inside myself?
I feel her under my skin,
she's now a part of me;
I whish it didn't exist.
She judges my moves,
my decisions and my ideas,
even my own damn words.
Now I've talked with her,
she has spoken with me,
she has confessed.
Her, ladies and gentlemen,
is what they call:
to overthink.
Copyright © Ariana Pataki | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment