This poem is dedicated to the people in the world who thought it was their time to go. This poem is dedicated to my brothers and sisters who think the world is better off without them because the world is not. I suffer from depression and I am here. You are not alone. If you need to talk, please reach out at email@example.com. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is here to help also at 1-800-273-8255.
This poem is called Whispers in the River.
Written by Stephanie Evelyn
I always wondered how.
I always wondered why.
Buried by mystery,
With souls lost to cries.
Mystery knocks at your door,
Until it finds a way.
It whispers to your thoughts,
Asking if it can stay.
Close your eyes,
Because more sleep might be what you need.
Close your eyes,
Because when you sleep the whispers seem to cease.
But who can visit you when you’re asleep?
Born alone to be alone,
Lonely rivers that run past,
Love alone and see alone,
It’s loneliness that is our last.
The whispers remind us,
That they are the only ones there.
With the world moving around us,
And no one seems to care.
It feeds off dark corners,
The ones that reside in the mind.
But, we forget the wind is there,
When the lonely river rushes by.
We forget the same sky,
We all see when we look up.
Or how sorrow wraps around our necks,
When our hearts feel stuck.
We forget how loneliness is not alone,
The whispers talk to me too.
So, before you go to sleep,
Tell me, what do the whispers say to you?
I am Sterp. I write dark fiction and have a very unhealthy obsession with disturbing narratives. I am the author of The Cult Called Freedom House: Sophia Rey Book One. My short story The Lost Tea Cup is in Issue 26 of The Literary Hatchet. I am also a painter.
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