Murder in the Garage

Murder in the Garage

His garage was sacred

a place he trusted,

a room that held

more truth than air.

He took the bodies

he had murdered there,

kept them with him

as if they still breathed.

He buried them deep

in the garage floor,

worked through the night

until silence settled.

Everything bad

disappeared by morning,

the sun pretending

nothing was wrong.

The walls still whispered

when he moved alone,

their memories clinging

to every shadow.

The tools kept watching

like silent witnesses,

their steel remembering

each trembling hour.

And in the cold ground

something still turning,

a restless stirring

beneath his feet.

He felt them calling

from under the concrete,

their voices rising

for him once more.