I hear the whispers I’m not supposed to hear.
I hear them as clearly as if they were screams

I hear them talking, even when I’m not there
I hear all of them in my head, in my dreams

I’m labeled. I have been marked
They think they know me,
All the whispers become one
I’m known, but I’m really not

How can they know me, if they don’t see me?

I try to ignore what is there,
That what I can’t change
It follows me,
I keep hearing those things I don’t want to hear.