Scattered Whispers

The walls hold in contained whispers of the who is not heard

Everyday creating and crafting words into a fable

Always wanted to

Hearing the same words repeating

Always wanted to




Fall into hands

Why have you forsaken thy?

Was if for the self-righteous suicide mind

Why must the angels always deserve to die?

Leaning against the loud walls

Every little brick pressed against my back

"All and all it was just another brick in the wall"

Building up to my isolation and my abasement esteem

The End

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