The Whisperers

Hushed whispers are all I hear

Misted hills are all I see.

A vale of lies cloud the truth

And all I ever hoped I'd be.

The whispers, they are mere remains,

Of angers and hates felt.

All they are are left-overs,

Of pains with which I never dealt.

Just because I can't face them-

Now the rain starts drizzling down.

Upon my face turned to the sky.

No expression except a frown.

A look. A question. An eyebrow raised.

No answer from Heaven above.

No inclination, just ignorance.

A complete lack of care and love.

But the rain sent only to fall

Kills flames and mingles with the tears.

So anger turns to sorrow, regret.

As the rage returns to fears.

So rain gives way to mist again

Blinding me from the path of truth.

And whispering winds curse in my ears

The memories of voices from my youth.