The Voice.

These things have a tendency to come and go, yet still this voice remains. Whispering, taunting me to give in, so urgent its almost a scream, so familiar its barely a whisper. Bending and twisting around me, suiting each and every new form I become with its corresponding answer, yet always the same. 

Things have changed. Things shall stay the same. 

The first question is what is the voice?

The voice is my inner self.

Why is the voice here?

The voice is here so I don't lose me or my way.

When will the voice go away?

The voice will always be there. 

So I suppose you would call the voice my concience. Or how ever thats spelled. 

Some one once told my I'm very in touch with my self. I'm not sure how true that statement would be. I still feel relatively lost, but I only think thats because my personality is one that needs to be in a constant state of disorganization and confusion. So I suppose I wouldn't have it any other way. 

I suppose.