Whispers in the quiet dark,
Where shadows bend and break,
A chorus of the hidden self,
With truths we dare not wake.
In the silence of the heart,
They murmur soft and low,
Echoes of the thoughts we hide,
In places we don’t show.
They speak of fears and fragile dreams,
Of hopes we long to chase,
Of memories both sweet and sharp,
That time cannot erase.
Each voice a thread within the soul,
Toward who we’re meant to be.
When the world has lost its noise,
About the Creator
Abbas
Versatile writer skilled in both tale & stories. Captivate readers with engaging content & immersive narratives. Passionate about informing, inspiring, & entertaining through words.
The Devil's Cut
“Comrade, finally you’re awake.” The voice was smooth, sensual. A flickering incandescent bar was all that lit the white, sterile room. All Vladimir remembered was everything going black. He tried to move his arms and found them strapped to the gurney.
By Matthew J. Fromm7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Something to think about here. Really like the image chosen for the vehicles on a snowy road going forward..
So creative