In quiet moments.

At times of contemplation.

At times of peace.

When it seems that nothing could faze me.

A little voice.

So small it cannot be heard.

Calls out to me.

I can’t seem to hear her.

I pay her no mind.

I can hear her frustration.

When she calls out louder.

I can’t seem to hear her.

I pay her no mind.

I can hear the rage.

When she screams at me.

And I hear her.

I hear me.

I hear myself call out.

I hear my voice call out to me.

I hear four words.

Four little words.

They say with venom.

They say with malice.

They say with self hatred.

They snarl in anger.

“What fate awaits me”

Four little words.

Four loaded words.

I hear them.

But I don’t listen.

In quiet moments.

At times of contemplation.

At times of peace.

The voice cries out.

But I’m not listening.

I am Timi