Alone
The whispers.
They've suddenly switched sides -
no more caressing your ego, but
stoking the flames upon which
you will be burnt.
Those eyes.
They neither offer the comfort of a happy past
(was there any happy in your past?)
nor do they speak promises
of a better tomorrow
(If tomorrow ever comes)
And it takes you two years
(years that change everything)
To drag yourself out of the
illusion you've blinded yourself with
To face a destiny
You don't believe in.
Entered in: Remi's 100 Prompts Challenge on the Poetry Craze forum, prompt: illusion
The Freeverse Frenzie Competition, entry #2