“And it’s only a matter of time
before I am nothing more
than shadow and whisper too.”
This prison of mine has become my home. The sunlight creeps in and all I can do is watch the shadows dance across the flor. Look at the yellow print on the walls and wonder what might be hidden there. There’s this nagging inside at me. If only I could focus hard enough, I might be able to see those figures I notice moving in the corner of my eye. Or maybe, if I wait long enough, those barely discernable whispers will become louder. Clearer. Maybe. Just maybe. I won’t be so alone. But I won’t hold my breath. This room smells of death. And I know it’s only a matter of time before I am nothing more than shadow and whisper too.
© Sarah Doughty
Maybe then, I won’t be so…
View original post 15 more words