Be Quiet, Go Away Poem by Shane Markie

I hear voices. I've heard them often. I've heard them since childhood. They come to me unexpectedly, all shapeless, soft persistences. They pierce and disptract my study, hover. above my pillow as I sleep. These voices, they tell me I don't belong,
they say wrong things about me, telling me I'm different.

I hear them constantly, these voices, all noise and innuendo and double entendre following me into life.