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