She She tells me what to do. What to think. What to feel. She is devious. She puts a bad taste in my mouth, and tears in my eyes. Only when I am alone do I see her. In silence is when she sings her loudest from inside. She uses me. Every breath from my lungs. My feet to walk. My tounge to speak. My eyes to see. She always wins, coating my heart with frost, filling my mouth with her posion so that my words can be venomous. She freezes my thoughts and pulls me away, hitting me, kicking me, desperate to make me better. She outshines the pale reflection that is me. She has made me her host. She never leaves. The voice in my head will never be lost.
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