A whisper floating in the air,

a fragrance that surrounds me, full of despair

."Do you smell it?" I ask, unsure,

but their eyes are distant, cold and pure.

Where others find peace, I find the noise,

a lingering scent I can't destroy.

"I don't like it," 

I finally say,and their gazes fall, looking away.

The food touches my lips, I sense it there,

a bitter certainty fills the air,

i knew, before I even began,

there'd be no comfort in the taste of this plan.