whispers come out
of control
of the mouth
of the
selfish thinker
undertones
select know
while in air
their spare
venom lingers
cruelty whips the paranoid
not anxious for no reason
get in line good girls and boys
be one or zero
curve to the confines
of the basic language
meanwhile
the hermit sits
scooping sand
with her
hand and fingers
given that she has
felt the breadth
of human hate
from some the
closest to her
she will still
sit cross legged in pain
every new day
as each day past
spinning the comic
and the tragic
into verse
unique to her
as the voice
in her mind
convinces her
it could keep
others alive
so she sings
she screams
songs of hope
and victory
leaving
whispers
where they ought
to be
hanging
with the liars
unheard
for time enough
in futures
never said
inspired by and
for emnabee
as well as
for all the
Arachne Duana Fortuna
thank you for your secret words
they save and summon
keep on
keep on