Whispers Poem by Scarlett Morpeth
Whispers
Whispers, whispers,
In the dark,
What do they say,
I cannot tell.
Are they speaking
Horrible things?
Or telling stories
That hurt and sting?
All I know,
Is that I'm glad,
That I'm not there,
In the dark.
Anymore.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Topic(s) of this poem: dark
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8/28/2026 1:08:16 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
