One who hears without reception;
Voices surround from every place.
They speak with words full of deception.
Just filling up every empty space....
Whispers follow in the dark of night;
Squeezing life from the one who hears...,
Like spearing arrows in deadly flight,
With painful blows; opening many fears.
One longs for silence to hush them away.
Maybe it just wasn't meant to be,
For even through the light of day,
The darkness speaks to those not free.
Destiny could not be welcomed here.
And freedom had been lost....somewhere.
The one who was listening could not hear;
Their sounds they made when passing there.
Unrecognizable...,twisted and spent;
Voices were heard for all their good.
One had existed, came and went.
And no-one listened, nor understood.
Copyright Ó
2003 Wanda Lyn Carr
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