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
♿ 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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