She lay in the cold bed,
Her back towards the door.
Her heart lacks emotion;
It is ripped up and worn.
The night is unbearably silent,
Whispers float in the wind.
They tell her she is a failure,
Unable to ever succeed or win.
In the midst of desolate darkness
The menacing whispers grow.
They threaten to destroy her,
In a way no must ever know.
Her thoughts and emotions
Are all locked up inside.
No one can have the key,
They must stay and hide.
Suddenly, her fate now lays
In the hands of the whispers.
She caves in to the urge:
She listens and begins to whither.
She is gentle and fragile,
But no one ever understands
That her life hangs by a thread
Breaking with each strand.
Points: 421
Reviews: 3
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