Quiet whispers, And thoughtless imaginations Fulfill the truth That lies within the heart. The heart beats, And uncontrollable defeats With anger And other stuff that contrast The fears, From damaging and preparing It self to one’s peers, That lies still, And speak quiet whisper In one’s ears, With debatable beliefs From the hard cold tears That stays in the corner Of one’s eye that Makes it hard to fall, And even easier to not Cry. The dents in the pillow to Where one head rest and lay, And the mind, body, and Soul Is released to God To help the gray That takes over your life, Vanish and disappear Which you is uncapable Of controlling, With quiet whispers. And little whimpers, That no one hears but you. God take me to the point of This poems, Help my reader read, And understand that my Words are true. I am itching to be loved. I wonder if that itch really had Grew.