Whisper

"whisper"

She always knew how it would go on;
prayed daily, for life, not too unlike your own;
perhaps a few more friendly faces then need be,
and maybe just a tiny bit less
of the emtional cocktails, 
forced fed by her own mind;
Her master.
Her demons.
The center of her core,
that jotted down the whole thing to a simple scene;
No love.
But equally, no more sadness.
No rejection but so much loneliness.
The quiet stopped being a friend then;
Became but a vicious predator,
ready to strike out, in defiance of the quickening rooms,
that always seemed to become it's cage.
She'd laugh a little though, on nights like these.
Play around with willow wisps and the tricky little pixies,
would pull away the grand image she always displayed;
From powerful and hardened,
From heroic and all knowing,
to the simple being she always was.
The one she always feared.
It was nice for a time.
Then one night, as the very same moon loomed over head,
lighting the way for night chlorophyll, and the nightly hum
of electric bugs, buzzing through the sharp power lines,
down the road a bit,
She laid her head down under the oak,
and only the wind could carry her massive words,
under such a gentleness,
into an obscure whisper,
which howls out every night to those who hear.
What were the words?
Honestly, no one really knows any more.
Probably just a specter.
Nothing more.

Random poem and picture for you guys. Finally finished it though.
Yes, I know there are spelling and grammatical errors, but...
Its nice sometimes to have something in the raw.