At first I thought

It was the voices

All around that

Had changed.

Their soothing melodies

Turned acrid

In the afternoon sun.

But as the stars

Of my soul

Came out to play

Glistening for the

First time

in the inky blackness

I realised;

It was not those voices

That had changed

But my ears:

I could hear a

Smaller voice

Calling out

From the chinks

In the white noise chatter.

That small voice

Was mine.

Quieter but


More peaceful,

More true


Published by Beyond Recovery blog

A collection of creativity, artwork and information by Merseysiders on recovery in mental health.

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