I am sure I hear the voices
I am sure that it’s the sound I hear
I am sure it’s physical and that it strikes my eardrum
But I don’t know where it’s coming from.
It calls me thrice
I have heard the advice
I say no reply; I have no choice
I ask no questions to the voice.
That makes no fourth call.
I controvert my sense, I say,
“No one calls me in the middle of the night;
Calls me by name, but is not in my sight!”
But I hear them
The voices in my head.
The calling of the dead
People call me; I act deaf.
I wait… until the fourth call is made.
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