Whispers That Fracture Halls
You feel the whispers slither down the long corridor,
each murmur coiling around your thoughts like hungry vines.
They scratch at your calm, sharp as claws unseen,
and fracture your resolve until your heart cannot stay silent.
You sense the walls themselves lean, curious and burdened,
their cracks breathing echoes of every stolen word.
Even the chairs groan beneath an invisible weight,
worn by secrets that slide across the floor like restless ghosts.
You watch as daylight winnows through frosty windows,
afraid to face the truth those whispers carry.
Driven by iron tongues that drip with accusation,
you remain—a flicker of light defying their hush.
You are planted in this room, roots deep in purpose,
a silent sentinel despite the whispers’ might.
And though whispers may rise, their reign will fall to dust—
when your truth, at last, breaks free and echoes with light.
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