[Compostition Rebuke]

I wrote this a long time ago.

The secret words,

hidden in my blood stained,

notebooks.

Smilling as I write,

listening to the sound,

of the brooks.

~

Some who read smile,

others only frown.

But the hidden one,

who discovers more,

won't find themselves to drown.

~

She remembers the quotes,

as my voice whispers in her ear.

She realizes her,

unfaithful end is near.

~

Those who read,

will discover,

what dances through the halls.

The one who really hears me,

is surrounded,

by these big white walls.

~

Her judgement has been blurred;

What is black and white?
Be she has hope,

her once pained eyes,

now hold light.

 

Author's Note

Moral: Our words speak volumes to people. But who are those words reaching?