Often when I sleep, the voice wakes me.
                  "When was the last time you were happy?"
Sometimes I can ignore it--
                  "Do you hate yourself..."
--sometimes I can't.
                  "or just everyone around you?"
The voice has a monotone comfort to it;
         the kind of voice used to put kids to sleep--
         --I loved the voice.
                  "You hate them, don't you?"
         --just not the questions.
                  "Please, you can't ignore me all night."
Sobs break my voice into stutters:
                           "I want t-to sleep."
                  "Then sleep, no one is stopping you."
"Please" a hoarse whisper "leave me alone."
                  "We both know I can't do that."

                  "Murder of the self" the voice explains, "is the best or worst kind."
I don't understand, I tell it.
                  "It comes to perspective."
What does it want me to do?
                  "What do you want to do?"

The silver reflects the light for an instant
                                    quickly followed by a high-pitched clatter.
                  "Isn't it comforting, laying in your own life?"
The voice doesn't bother me anymore.
                  "Enjoy your sleep, my friend--"
                           I can feel the sheets absorb my life
                           "--you'll need your rest."