Voices of are all around them.
The voices that ridicule him the voices that pushes him closer and closer to the edge.
The voices that have his sanity on a thin thread with a pair of scissors just two inches away.
The voices of those who push her in the dirt and make jokes not knowing, or in fact caring that her body and mind might be are about as fragile a newborn baby.
The voices of those in her own bloodline, who don't seem to care about her the pain that she has been through is worse than getting stung by a hundred bees.
She sheds tears in her pillow every night as she begins to contemplate her own death.
The voices of those who desire a rebellion.
The voices that have been silenced because of their protest and exercising their freedom of speech.
The voices of those who refuse to watch their home fall six feet under.
The voices of those who have fought and died for their country they are the same voices that echo in the ears of their loved ones.
