The wind whispers,
The trees knock,
And I know what they ask of me.

But I don't know if they believe in me.
Am I right in their eyes?
Am I wrong?
Do they whisper their judgement,
Petitions against me,
Or do they breathe encouragements,
Telling me I am justified?

But, oh, that is all I long for, isn't it?
Some sense of acceptance? And if this means that,
While no one else speaks to me
And they do,
That they approve,
Then is it enough?
Or am I just another naïve idealist,
Hoping that someone,
Somewhere
Might agree?

The music of their midnight rustles entices me,
And yet,
I can't be sure if it's their judgement
Ringing sharp and true in my ears,
Or their consent that fills me.

I feel a sense of unease,
Being spoken to after so long of nothing.

But does that mean that I don't want to be acknowledged after all?

I long for companionship,
But what can it mean when I get what I've pined after,
But still feel unease and wariness?

Am I to be wrapped,
Trapped,
By silence?

For how long?

Did I bring it upon myself?

And if so,

Was I right in doing so?