The compulsion is there She won't do it But that doesn't mean it's not there It likes to rest at the back of her mind and it creeps up every now and again when monotony threatens to take her purpose Because wouldn't it be easier to give up
She'll never follow through On some level she knows it's bad Her head reminds her that she is weak And the whispers find time to hibernate until that pitch black day when they all rush in Eager to fulfill their duty
They've already done it, of course And they tell her, as she slips into cool nothingness, that *no one will miss her anyway