In the quiet of the night, they creep,
shadows whisper where silence should sleep.
Soft voices rise, a ceaseless tide,
thoughts that twist and turn inside.
A thousand "what ifs" cloud my sight,
pulling me deep into endless night.
They speak of fears I dare not name,
a flickering flame, a hidden shame.
"You're not enough," they softly hiss,
a chorus wrapped in dark abyss.
They echo doubts I try to hide,
each fragile hope cast aside.
They count my failures, weigh my worth,
remind me of each stumble, each hurt.
A mirror held to flaws so stark,
they paint my world in shades of dark.
"You'll never be," they taunt and jeer,
"no dreams are safe, no path is clear."
Each word, a thread to bind me tight,
a tether keeping wings from flight.
Yet somewhere, faint, a melody,
a gentler voice that pleads with me.
"You are not your fear, nor your pain,
like storms, these whispers will not remain.
Breathe deep, let stillness find its way,
the dawn will bring a brighter day."
Though whispers linger, loud and near,
I learn to face them, not to fear.
For in the quiet, strength I find,
to still the whispers in my mind.
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