Whispers

I know they are talking about me, but what exactly?
Eyes shift to me concerned looking madly.
What have I done and what is their plan?
Mouth and eyes are dry as the desert sands.
They must all hate me, it’s something I know.
The whispers get louder but refuse to show.

I know they are talking about me, but what exactly?
Back against the wall fearful they may attack me.
That wasn’t a whisper I recognize that laugh.
It was from that night I had that horrible mental crash.
The whispers are drawing closer. I can feel their breath.
Soft whispers to my ear telling me it is indeed death.