That little voice in my ear
That wants me dead and gone
Keeps chattering away in my ear.
The earth tilts, and it’s still there,
Perched on my shoulders,
Making me it carry it around
Even as exhaustion drips
Down my spine to my toes.
I try to get away,
Go to sleep,
Begging the universe
For a few hours of reprieve.
Instead, it chases me around,
Personified, holding a gun,
And maybe the worst of all is
That she’s wearing my face.
Chelarose 