Vocal Call

The voices whispered come back to black.
Choices left meant cold water led . . .
into the fires of hell.
Torment of inferno
not flame of emotional freedom from care.

My head was there once.
Not so long ago it was just so . . .
unbelievable magical fantasy.

Tragedy is so deceivingly sad.
Simple truth is often unsaid
for fear of upsetting . . .
rest of the dead.

Those thoughts that you knew
would be so invigorating.
Been waiting a lifetime
for chance to be heard . . .

by someone that's listening!

Showing recognition in eyes brightly sparkling;
charming the smile-whitening teeth;
hinting at passion that lay waiting beneath.

That was then and this is the now;
fast in approaching decent into hell.

Seconds tick over so incredibly slow . . .
on the watch every third movement
heightens the shock.

Shadow's cold glow lands heavy in head
creating the moment just before death.