Whispers, like echoes of a faint past, crowd around me <br />They bathe me with their memories, their impositions <br />Laying pathways of guilt and gossip across my soul <br />Speaking softly of sins and sorrows that are not mine <br />they drive my nightmares to the brink of exhaustion <br />and beyond into the calm, quiet void of sociopathy <br /> <br />When the time comes, the voices fade away into slumber <br />visions of oblivion are overlayed with laughter and hope <br />I live to serve the good of the many, to subsume the one <br />To enter into love more deeply than that of romance <br />To eschew affecting affairs of absolute attrition, <br />begging death and bragging of the broken coffins <br /> <br />It is time to go soon, to my graded addiction <br />waiting for the wrong things to happen at the wrong time <br />to talk to my salvation and absolve her inheritance <br />hoping, maybe, that in that fire lies my own absolution<br /><br />Poet Dragon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/broken-whispers/
