Whisper

This, like quite a few of my poems, honestly has nothing to do with my life. I actually wrote it while drunk. These words just *happened* pretty much of their own volition.

Hell is your voice,
Sweeter than syrup,
Oozing into my very soul,
Flowing through my veins,
Thick, and molasses slow,
Wraping around my bones,
Dissolving them,
Eating me alive,
With words,
All lies.

Of love which you have never felt.