The Voice In His Head Poem by David Welch

There is a voice within my head,
he's been there all my life,
I've learned not to talk much of it,
or folks say, "He ain't right."
Some would thing that I've gone insane,
that I should go get help,
but the voice has done me no hard,
as far as I can tell.
If fact he seems to cheer me on
through every turn and twist,
I know this doesn't make much sense,
but please consider this:

When I was eleven years old
I had a soccer game,
I wasn't much the sporting type,
my performance was…lame.
They liked to put me on defense
so I couldn't screw up,
but the last game of the season
I had a change in luck.
I had moved up to the midfield
and the ball came to me,
before me stood an open shot
and distracted goalie.
Instead of joy I felt frozen,
like all had gone amiss,
then the voice said, "You're in the clear!
Go for it, you've got this! "

Needless to say, I made that shot,
my athletic high point,
was so happy I didn't mind
that I had pulled my groin.
But six years later I did find
myself in a hard place,
this time it was over a girl
with a heavenly face.
The people all called her Trissa,
she seemed out of my reach,
my hands would get all clammy if
around her I did speak,
but somehow I worked up the nerve
to ask her to the prom,
as I walked up every heartbeat
seemed as loud as a bomb.
To think such a woman would deign
to give me just one kiss…
but the voice said, "She's scared as you,
stand firm, boy, you've got this."

Can you believe the voice was right?
We dated for five years,
got married right out of college,
then the real world appeared.
It was much harder than a school,
the workloads were intense,
I knew so little I don't know
how I survived back them.
Moreover Triss soon fell pregnant,
and quietly, inside,
I feared knowing that small person
upon me would rely.
How could I shoulder all that weight?
I struggled at my job,
what kind of life could I provide,
I feared they'd both feel robbed.
But what I held that tiny girl,
saw her sleeping in bliss,
the voice spoke up and made it plain,
"Just relax, we've got this."

It was maybe ten years later,
as I slept in my bed,
that all sorts of infernal things
seemed to possess my head.
A procession of cruel demons
that long ago had fell,
and above them, the Morningstar,
damnable price of Hell.
They taunted me with cries that pierced,
burned me with fetid breath,
portrayed my sins before my eyes,
said, "You deserve but death! "
There was no escaping that fact,
so much had I done wrong,
the Devil said, "This is my world,
and with me you belong."
But then I heard the Voice again,
"Ignore what he may say,
this fool challenged the Throne before,
his fall was child's play."
His voice sent demons scattering,
His words were holy writ.
"I paid your debts up on that cross,
fear not, 'cause I've got this…"