The Whispers Of The Whisperers
Six years for attempting to murder a scum bag
The Whispers of the Whisperers
They are all talking—low and sly,
Murmurs slithering as I walk by.
Six long years behind locked doors,
Now free, but never yours.
The whispers crawl along my skin,
Fingers pointing, lips stretched thin.
Attempted murder—that’s my name,
A story spun, a twisted frame.
They watch, they wait, they never cease,
Judgment cloaked in false-release.
I did my time, I served it whole,
Yet still, they dig, they steal my soul.
They don’t see I wasted my past,
And now—I am free.
Out side at long las, I did the crime
Now I am let out, New slate fit met
It was he who pulled the knife on me
I got it off him, I lunged forward,
Stabbing him with hate in his chest
He pulled through, you know the rest.
Please not this is a head to pen poem. It is Not me or my true life. It’s just a poem 😝🧐🥳
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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Comments (2)
Nice
Another one that will make you see things in a different light. Good job.