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The Whisperer

Whispers are quiet and unknown,
but when we whisper together, we propel it through a megaphone.
and like a sharp stone, it pierces the skin.
The whisperer is left un-atoned.

We whisper in secret, so no one else can hear it.
We whisper in the shadows, so no one can see it.
But as the darkness is overcast, the sound will not pass.
Our secrets sung in whispers, bring scars, and open blisters.

We scream for help, while we're drowning in fear.
Our friends are within our reach, but why can't they hear?
Our screams turn to whispers, but when a whisper is only one,
it cannot be heard, nor can the whispers turned to screams be undone.





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