Whispers

Whispers soft and lovely, saying things of love echoing sweet nothings we’ve heard them all before they echo through our minds we feel “butterflies” inside as all these pretty words make us feel alive. Whispers harsh with menace, saying things of hate reverberate bitterness saying we’re too late. they filter through our minds we feel hopeless, dead inside as all these ugly thoughts make us want to cry. All these are, are remnant thoughts, wandering through our heads; each with their own schemes and plots, blessings, curses, dread. They fill up empty spaces in our expanse of mind, to make us diverse cases Our musings one of a kind.