The Writer's Voice
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The Voices
by
J. L. Evans
The voices once silent had started again,
the chanting, melodic sound.
They filled his thoughts to a bursting point,
The pain in his head would pound.
Both soft and loud he could not see,
why was it they had chosen him.
For days... no... weeks, he could not sleep,
It helped when he finally gave in.
YOU ARE THE ANGEL CHOSEN BY GOD
YOUR MISSION ON EARTH...PURIFY
SEEK YE OUT SINNERS WHO PRETEND TO BE SAINTS
IN GOD'S NAME THEY MUST DIE
What started as random now seemed a plague,
the city had never seen.
10 missing clergy all presumed dead,
yet the voices still they screamed.
The pain in his head would not go away,
no matter how he tried.
Melodic messages again and again,
no matter how many died.
The relief that he sought came painfully clear,
as he scrawled a note that said,
the preachers you seek are buried right here,
still the voices won't leave my head.
A mailman noticed an awful smell,
and notified the police.
The voices ended when the rope snapped his neck,
he'd been hanging there for 2 weeks...
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