Writing

Know.

Silence falls, so heavy you fear it might shatter into a million pieces. Each razor sharp, leaving your soul in ribbons. Too late you realize you’re boxed in with no where left to turn, escape in not an option. Everyone has been pushed away until they have have forgotten your name and now, even if they could hear the calls for help, a finger would never be lifted.

Then the whispers begin as if they never left. They promise. They cajole. They curse. They condemn. They know what needs to be done.

And so do you.

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