The light entered her room, like rain, absolutely uninvited, or maybe not. She was awake with her eyes closed, wrapped in the warmth of the blanket that had become more than home. Something in her did not wake up or maybe had died. Something in her stirred as if keeping her alive. She could hear the faint whispers, the chatting, the footsteps, but nothing was worth her eyes. Nothing that could bring her back, nothing she either loved or despised. She could feel her breathing like never before, her heart never stopped beating, despite being sore. Her eyes bulged at the sight of the beauty she was and her mouth drooled at her mature thoughts. Could she have gotten more beautiful, the whispers nodded timidly, struggling to reach her bed before getting caught. She could see glimpses of tear-stained faces, and bodies gathered all around. Her mornings were never so loud, she wondered what was the cause of these sounds.
She drank poison all her life and it tasted bad. Today when it, hit the tip of her tongue the divinity of it made her mad. The act did not go unseen by the bodies and like dumb robots, they started worshipping poison.
Oh, Lord! Could it really be divine poison?
. . .
Not Oxford Dictionary:
- light - does not always bring brightness
- rain - tears
- blanket - pall
- whispers - backbiting, chatting - notions, footsteps - every word leaves its marks
- eyes - life
- breathing - freedom
- heart - wounds
- bed - coffin
- bodies - dead from within
- loud/sounds - society weeps for it takes a human life to shatter the stereotypes
- poison & divinity - (up to your discretion)