26 July 2018
The passive whispers bounce back and forth
like a superball thrown by a careless child
"Who are you?"
"We are your demons"
"Why am I scared?"
"Because you should be or perhaps, perhaps it is the fear of the unknown"
"Are you going to hurt me?"
"We do not need to hurt you but we will be your death, we will be the final nail in your coffin,
And the unspoken, passive bystander at your funeral"
"If you aren't going to hurt me how are you going to do that?"
I'll never forget the cold, hushed whisper caressing my soul to sleep
With it's cold, indifferent tone
Wrapping it's monotonous syllables around my mind
They whispered, "Because you will do it for us"
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