Ninth December Drabble

The whispers... they are haunting me
They tell me only lies,
They claim that they all hold the key
To keep me from demise

Although I do not trust their call
I'm starting to believe,

That the choice might not be mine at all
I think I am starting to percieve

That I might be within their hold

And maybe there's no way out
And all that, that the voices told
Should not be struck by doubt

But yet I keep on moving on

I keep on fighting back
Yet all hope is not yet gone
Although the prospect's black

I call to you, I need you now

I need you more than ever
Although I cannot tell you how,
Please save me from this endeavour

The tears I cry, they all fall down

Into this last vial
If I no longer should be around
This will shatter your denial

Know then what you could have done
Know then what you've fled

You would have been the only one
My very last, small thread

Of hope to one day get out,
Of this nightmare that somehow I,

Cannot live with or without
You, the whispers, let me die

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Word of the day:

twist in the wind
To be unassisted and without comfort in a situation likely to result in distress or failure.

Wordcount: 198

Fun factor: 1/5