A Whispers Echo

Waiting for a friend to arrive,

He’s one who’s struggled in comparable manners

To what I have, and currently am bound to qualify in my daily life,

The precept maybe corrupted because of choice and reasoning,

But the analogy still holds balance to the statement such,

I ramble on too much, this I know too, very well

And yet, aware I still continue in the same manner still

Dreams of violence, why and how

I’m a good natured sort

With a bitter pill swallowed years before

But the images this subconscious shares

How and why, and where are their compositions from?

I’m a good man, one who carries himself in moral ways,

I walk and talk and speak and think,

Yet what do my visions mean,

I cannot help but wonder

If some weird alteration is at play in me,

I think and wonder much too often

I honor and respect and pray

I relish those moments in where hardened times get softened

Where whispers echoes are stronger than the shouted word