In solitude I hear voices,
whispering,
demonic.
A mumbling,
that which my innocence can not decipher,
a frequency,
a pattern,
a code.
I am invited,
needed,wanted...
desired.
Sleep takes me,
I hear them clearly now.
They speak of terrible deeds,
and in my struggle to wake,
they force me to sleep.
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Author:
Yorke (
Offline) - Published: July 4th, 2019 17:43
- Category: Forgiveness
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: SilverXball
Offline)
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