You Know Who

You know who;
the relentless small voice,
who whispers at night,
echoes within hidden depths,
makes a sham of belief,
shakes the foundation of hope,
asks the question you want to ignore,
the answer you'd rather not hear.
You've brushed it away plenty of times.
You know who.
It is ashy, pale, transparent,
skin that has been sloughed off on white sheets.
It takes some of you with it on the wind
dusty with truth and lies.
You must know who;
the silence broken by a sudden intake of fear,
the exit and entrance blocked off
by those who have dropped the stone.
It repeats "you know, you know, you know",
unforgiving, persistent, asking you to acknowledge
what lies lie within.
How loudly it speaks
when sleep is elusive as shadow ghosts
running in tattered sneakers atop a garden wall.
You know who;
that relentless small voice who whispers at night.