The Lost Boy

In the midst of the ruckus I hear a still voice emanating from within. It speaks to me, telling me to do all sorts of unsavory things to you. Beleaguered by its requests, I stand in one spot, pondering on what or where the source of this madness is from. This voice is not mine and these actions are certainly not in my nature, so who are you?

I stare at my reflection in still water, I put up a smile but see a frown; my reflection is the irony of my being, I am slowly becoming what I'm not.
As the tears slowly stream down my face and drip into the still water, the water is only unsettled for a moment and then return to its previous state. So just like the still waters I must be tough enough to dissipate the hurt and anguish that comes way and hopefully return to some state of normalcy. Now all that's left for is to decipher what's up and what's down.
I'm the lost boy.