When there's no one else around to talk to, And the silence is so loud, it's hard to push through,
I find myself talking to myself, out loud, As if I'm trying to break free from the shroud.
Sometimes it's just a whisper, barely heard, Other times, it's a rant, a whole monologue, absurd,
But it's a way to fill the empty space, And to keep myself from feeling out of place.
I talk to myself about my fears and dreams, And sometimes, things aren't always as they seem,
For in the depths of my own mind, I find new thoughts and ideas, intertwined.
And though it may seem strange, to talk to oneself, It can be a way, to understand oneself,
For when we speak, we give voice to our thoughts, And we can uncover, what's been tied up in knots.
So I'll keep talking to myself, when I'm alone, For it's a way to explore, what's unknown,
And to find new paths, that I might not have seen, If I didn't dare, to speak and to dream.
