The quite moment of the night.
When all is still.
I hear the whispers.
The doubts.
The aloneness echoing off barren walls.
Deafening me in its silence.
Touching me in its lack of touch.
Sapping my strength as my blood is drained from my body.
Aloneness is a quite silent murder that can’t be seen or witnessed.
It is often masked with a smile during the day.
Only to be returned to at the end of the day.
Like a trained torture victim.
Going back into his cage.