The Wanderer

While the wind whispers softly and wildly through the trees, shadows dance in dark romance, As they spread like a disease. Somewhere deep in the distance, a heavy voice can be heard. A scorching song drones on and on The careless ramblings of the disturbed. While he wanders aimlessly up and Down The corridor, a mind in need of help indeed From the voices of the scorned. Some are screaming, some are chanting Some are even positive. All are waiting,While debating, on just what advice to give. The scalding silence that surrounds him Goes unnoticed, not by choice Because to him, life is grim He’s never not without a voice. In his head he hears them all the time Although he lives alone While the wind whispers swiftly On and on the voices drone Maybe someday he’ll find peace But it will come with a price The price is death, and when it comes The final silence will be nice. Until then, he wanders... D.R.L.