Poem and Verse: Little Voices

A week of nothing much, nothing eventful, nothing dramatic. Work, home, work, tv, work, run, work, read. Nothing bad, nothing amazing. Life. Happy. Lucky. Everyday.

It’s been like that for a week or two, on the surface, simmering nicely. But underneath has been bubbling away ferociously, nervously, forcibly. Intrusive thoughts, nonsense and horror, permeating everyday life. Panic over nothing. Sadness over nothing. Anxiety over nothing.

Niggling voices, chitter chatter chitter. Niggling voices, questioning everything.

It’s fine. It will be fine. But sometimes it’s hard work. Against the little voices.

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