Whispers and the Roars

by K. Webster

The music is an extension of my pain and sadness. A direct view into the mind of a woman who has spent an entire lifetime attempting to forget injustices served against her.

Yeo is my drug. And I willingly give my biggest vein to him to inject his life into me.

Depression is a part of my life. Some days, it just swallows me whole. I lie in bed for hours and hours just like Momma used to do. Hiding from the outside world. Hiding from my reflection. Replaying the negative parts of my life over and over again on some torturous loop. It’s not something I simply get over. It consumes me.

She may be hiding from love,” she tells me. “But love will eventually find her.”

“I love you at your best and I love you at your worst. I love every single part of you. I always have and always will. I even love the parts I hate about you. How fucking weird is that? And I’ll continue to love you in every capacity, no matter how strange that makes me. I’ll fill in the missing voids of your heart with parts of mine,”