It’s here, it’s there, it’s everywhere
People yell, whisper, and just talk about it
They don’t know where it came from or how it even started
They just continue it, but this time adding a little something else
They don’t have the right to talk about it, but as imperfect humans they do
You can’t stop it once it’s gotten out there
It spreads pretty fast, just like a fire spreads through a forest
It’s like a game of telephone coming out with a whole different story
She walks down the cold, ugly hallway gripping her books as hard as she can
Everyone turns to her and stares at her with eyes of disgust
Not knowing the truth they continue to do what they have been doing their whole lives
Talk about it
She bends her head and tries to pretend no one’s there, but she can’t help from hearing the whispers
She continues her walk down that desert of despair, hoping she will find water to help her live again
There’s always a choice though, you can continue the game of telephone, or you can just move on from it