Whispers in My Closet

I’ve been hearing whispers in my closet lately,

I especially hear them late at night.

The whispers are so loud and apparent,

It’s hard to really get any sleep.

I just listen to the whispers all night long,

Since it’s impossible to ignore them.

I moved you both in my closet

Because I realized that I can’t leave you both just lying around,

Bloody and dead on the floor.

You both needed to be put somewhere safe,

I was thinking about burying you both,

But I’ve lost too much blood,

And I’m close to dying I think,

I don’t have the strength or energy to bury you both,

So putting you both in my closet was the best that I could do.

I was surprised that you were alive for so long,

While he just died right away.

I never really liked him,

And I honestly enjoyed killing and stabbing him multiple times,

But I’ll admit that it was hard killing you.

I cried when I was stabbing you,

And I just couldn’t kill you right away like I did to him.

I had to keep you alive

And give you a fighting chance.

I remember you struggling to breathe,

And trying your best to crawl and move around,

In your pool of blood,

But there was nothing more you could do,

Your body was useless thanks to me.

For a few days,

You were barely able to move,

I watched as you coughed up blood,

And struggled to breathe.

It looked like you were just in so much pain,

And there was nothing you could do to save your own life,

Instead you were just whispering.

You were whispering a lot,

When you were dying,

And I never knew what you were whispering.

Maybe they were whispers of regret,

Maybe they were whispers of hatred for me,

Maybe they were whispers of a dream,

There could have been so many things you whispered,

But I’ll never know,

And I’ll never be able to escape your whispers

Because they will always be in my closet.

This is the end of “Whispers in My Closet,” the third poem of the Night Terrors poetry series.

Be sure to like, share and comment your thoughts on “Whispers in My Closet.”

“No More Voices” will be the next poem of the Night Terror series that will be posted next Saturday.

Blood on the Wall

There’s blood on the wall,

Don’t worry it’s not your blood,

Or even his blood.

I cleaned all of that up days ago.

It’s mainly my blood on the wall.

I’ve been losing a lot of blood recently,

And I think I’m close to dying.

It’s my fault really,

I’ve been cutting myself too much,

These past few days.

At first,

I was just making tiny, little cuts on my arms.

They were completely harmless cuts.

I don’t know why I started doing this,

But it led to me wanting to do more.

I became addicted to hurting myself,

Seeing my blood trickle down my body.

It was satisfying and pleasurable for me,

But I needed more blood,

I needed more pain,

So I started creating deeper and bigger cuts on my arms.

Now, I find myself barely able to move.

Breathing is nearly impossible for me now.

I really need to go to a hospital,

I need to have my life saved,

Because I’m completely helpless,

And death is near and close to me at this very moment.

Is this how you both felt,

When I just kept stabbing and stabbing you both?

And just created bigger and deeper cuts,

You just never knew when I would stop,

Or when the pain and suffering would go away.

I think understand what you both were feeling,

And maybe that’s why I decided to cut myself

But just look at the mess I made,

Just trying to understand you both.

Just trying to understand your last moments of living.

My blood is everywhere,

My blood is on the floor,

My blood is on the couch,

My blood is even on you two,

But the blood is especially on the wall.

This is the end of “Blood on the Wall,” the second poem of the Night Terrors poetry series.

Be sure to like, share and comment your thoughts on “Blood on the Wall.”

“Whispers in my Closet” will be the next poem of the Night Terror series that will be posted next Saturday.

Another Quiet Night

It’s another quiet night for me.

Now that you all are gone,

I can hear so much alone in this place.

This place I’m not sure to call home.

This place I can never escape,

No matter how far I run away from it.

I’m trapped in this place forever,

This prison will forever keep me locked away from the outside world,

But I’ve learned to be okay with it.

It’s unbearable to be here sometimes,

Especially at night.

It’s so quiet at night without you all here.

Sometimes I think about your voices,

Sometimes I miss hearing them,

Sometimes I’m thinking about my own thoughts,

Sometimes I’m thinking I should talk to somebody

And get some help for my loneliness,

But then I shake the idea out of my mind

Because sometimes I can get through the night,

If I try my best not to think about you all too much.

You all simply had to go,

You all had to go to another place.

I hope you all understand

And know that I miss you all very much.

I miss the joyful and loving atmosphere that was once in this place.

I miss the good times we had together,

Sometimes I wish we could have those days together again,

I miss them so much,

But then I remember they had to end,

They were never meant to last forever,

And I think you both knew why they had to end.

Why I had to put an end to those days.

Now that you both are gone,

I only have quiet nights.

I’ve accepted the quiet nights,

And understand there will always be quiet nights for me.

That will never change for me.

Every night will always be another quiet night.

This is the end of “Another Quiet Night,” the first poem of the Night Terrors poetry series

Be sure to like, share and comment your thoughts on “Another Quiet Night.”

“Blood on the Wall” will be the next poem of the Night Terror series that will be posted next Saturday.