Murder in the Garage
No one ever suspected, he was never caught
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.
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
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