No Power In The Verse Can Stop Me NaPoWriMo 2025

Her words are soft,
As quiet as this house
In the dark hours, where no one dares
To breathe, even less to dream.
She whispers
Sweet, bitter, cunning lies
At least you hope they are
At least you beg they are
Clutching at past triumphs and tiny fragments of belief
Trying desperately not to let the words
Creep
In
Her face is so familiar
Yet she will not let you sleep