He hears strange voices in his head
Wherein exist the evil forms
Of groundless fears and morbid dread –
Those unrelenting mental storms!
And like a schooner in a gale,
He moves but with a tattered sail.
There’s neither silence anywhere,
Nor harmony of time and space;
Mere pandemonium everywhere
With bitterness in every place
Where all the elements collide,
By which he never can abide.
He must escape the awful dread
Of doubt and apprehension now!
Still the voices in his head,
By every means, no matter how!
He knows no hell save that within
Himself alone; he knows no sin,
Except what constantly he hears
As undisputed facts of life;
He knows no wrong except his fears –
The inner depths of pain and strife,
Perceiving fantasies and shades
Of senseless images of Hades!