Succumbed by news flash
of whispers that don't exist.
Not so mesmerized but wishing to
feed on something that simply exists.
No heartache no pain that brings me down for I question its appearance within me now.
A question like this out loud would receive back an answer such as earlier of "I don't know."
Honest in all its poetry form but obsolete of an almost ignited fuel of anger,
Leaving me with the right immediate answer,
No logic needed
Of what was one is simply now a peaceful embryo ignited in star form- pleasant, alive, and mused- without the presence of whispers at all,
A soul you are
That must be all.