Whispers


Whispers


The breeze will make you paranoid
Teasing trees twisting positions
Insisting mystery is magical
Mission, moss north direction
Injecting glorified ghost stories
Horrified hauntings and bad decisions
Sad positions of wavering grasses
Shifty masses wallowing shadows
No meadows in sight mighty oaks
Mentally unstable unable to stand
Straight, fate’s in the wind
Touched by the brush …hush
Listen
The breeze will make you paranoid…


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