The Patient Who Kills Patients
Yet he once was a patient too?
The Patient Who Kills Patients
He lies like stone
still as death
breath shallow, slow
a final breath
No fever burns
no pain to show
just eyes like pits
where nightmares grow
He waits for night
when guards are weak
silent steps
no voice to speak
His touch is cold
his skin is ice
one look from him
and death feels nice
They say he came
broken and lost
but left behind
a line of ghosts
No nurse will hold
no doctor stay
when he moves close
you fade away
No mercy here
no chance to plead
he feeds on fear
and silent need
In shadows deep
he walks alone
no flesh, no bone
When darkness falls
and lights grow thin
he takes his victim
and sinks within
No scream is heard
no tears to weep
just endless sleep
the patient’s keep
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Wild Card Weekend Recap: What Happens Now?
I think I figured out why I love Wild Card Weekend so much. It's because it's the first playoff anything of the calendar year. The NFL season starts in the fall, and once upon a time, the champion was crowned either on or slightly before New Year's. The evolution of the NFL schedule has resulted in the playoffs starting just into the New Year, and currently, the final week of the season falls on the first weekend of the New Year, with Wild Card Weekend coming a week after that. So yes, chronologically, the NFL's Wild Card Weekend serves as the first playoff anything of the calendar year.
By Clyde E. Dawkins7 days ago in Unbalanced
Comments (1)
This is hauntingly beautiful—like a lullaby whispered by death itself. The rhythm pulls you into a shadowy realm where silence is scarier than screams. I especially loved the line *"his touch is cold / his skin is ice / one look from him / and death feels nice"—*it captures the eerie calm that precedes horror. The poem masterfully balances mystery and menace. It reads like a ghost story wrapped in poetic elegance. Dark, chilling, and unforgettable.