She turns
as easily as a flower
does, towards the sun
as an eager reader
turning the pages
of their favourite book
as leaf on a branch
in a gust of wind.
She changes
like the seasons
adapting to whichever
situation suits her best
Being with certain others
and ignoring the rest.
She's your closest friend
the person you fear most
she has your secrets
in her lap
ready to spill
in one easy move.
What's that little sound?
It's a secret
Can't you hear it?
Trailing along
in a whisper
only to be picked up
by a certain few
and then held
in their ears.
If it was heard by all
then surely it wouldn't
be a secret
but something more
vicious instead.
I'm lucky that I haven't suffered this yet but I am friends with people it has happened to. Everyone seems to accept talking behind people's backs as if it's OK. Personally I don't like the feeling of people talking about me behind my back so I try not to do it to other people. In my opinion people need to be more open.
Behind your back
whispers begin
rattlesnake like
hiss
venomous words
stick to skin.
A hive of bees
buzzing
angry
building pressure
until something
gives
gets out.
The hiss
is now a shout
out of the shadow
in to the light
no where to hide.
The pack begins
to bite.
Prepare yourself
you're in for a fight.
