I feel a voice behind me.
It's a whisper that creeps me out.
It's a poisonous worship.
It's a scary tone.
The voice asks me
To do what I try not to do.
And I can feel the weakness.
My blood and my body are weak.
My soul fails.
My arm is the target.
YOU ARE READING
I don't know yet.
PoetryI can scream but it isn't enough. It's not enough 'cause these screams are silent. (Written by me)
