The Whispers
By Ash Desrocher
Whispers,
all I can hear,
around me,
faintly.
Invisible,
to anyone not paying attention,
thoughts corrupting my head,
wondering,
who,
and what,
was whispering to me.
The sound grew,
louder,
fiercer,
Incoherent.
I lay still,
letting myself go,
allowing these demons,
to take me away.
making it known,
that I don’t care anymore,
no ‘god’ to save me here,
no saint to save me now.
They find the wounds,
when examining the lifeless body,
knowing I was just another crazy psycho,
the whispers laugh at me,
cause they harbor me arms,
her red rivers,
laughing because they knew that they’d get away,
with harming me.
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