It.

Inside my head, there’s always this voice. A silent voice that never runs out of things to say. Sometimes It tries to keep me entertained, sometimes It just chatters away. It’s uncontrollable, unstoppable, and perhaps even unstable, often It drives me insane. It keeps me awake and It argues, thinks It always knows best. Won’t let me get in one word. It’s controlling and selfish, got a mind of Its own. It’s possessive and stubborn, so loud that It’s deaf. Hyperactive overdrive. Running circles in my head.

This puppeteer doesn’t need strings, It’s got brain. 

Sometimes It makes me laugh so hard, that I choke. Leaves me in awe of my genius, my wit and my charm. Tells me stories and jokes, helps me out with a line. Paints me a picture of life. Often hazy, but It’s all that I know. Hyperactive overdrive. Running circles in my head. This puppeteer doesn’t need strings, It’s got brain.