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Lee Carter Oct 2020
Born in nineteen seventeen,
And died in sixty-seven.
His heart gave out, he became a ghost!
But did not go to heaven...

So now he haunts these hallowed grounds
From silver nights to dewy dawn.
His spectral frame glides above the grass
And drifts across the lawn.

But when morning comes and moonlight fades,
He knows it's time to leave.
To allow the other graveyard patrons
Their own time to grieve.

So he floats off to his tombstone,
Lies down in this coffin bed.
Every morning he dreams he is alive-
But each night he wakes up dead.
REPOST
Happy October!
Elena Mustafa Sep 2020
Thunderstorms
How i hated them
As a child
As each and every time i was left in the darkness
Where i saw both
Ghost demons
And other
Evil things
To scare and scar a
Kid for life
Norman Crane Sep 2020
/1975/ My mother died,
And forever cold she burned: cremated
No ceremony, no final goodbye,
Her will leaving me uncompensated.
Alone but for her ashes in the urn,
Which sometimes buzzed like bees and wheezed like breath,
I kept it shut until the day I learned,
That she would be my burden even after death.
Now every day I lift that hideous lid,
Remove the tiny skeleton within,
And place screeching in its awful stead,
Held by the tail, still in its fleshy skin,
A freshly caught rat / Hungry ash covers,
The dead too devour their living lovers.
Natalie Sep 2020
Monsters
They’re scary
Some are in the closet
Some are under the bed
But you want to know a secret?
The scariest monsters
Are in our heads
I am my own monster
Caage Gaber Sep 2020
An entrance to my fears
A look into the dark edges
Chills, screams, and tears
My sleep slings me into what trenches

Trapped in my menacing mind
Reality twisting into a paradox
Reminding me through the confine
Fearful of the disturbing faux

The shadows reach for the soul
This treachery haunts my heart
The feeling of separating my skull
My memories ripping me apart

It takes your deepest senses
Manipulates your faintest thoughts
Developing a world of consequences
Twisting your psych into tight knots
Every night you sleep and encounter a nightmare through your journey of the unconscious do you ever wonder where did these sounds, visions, and ideas come from. The scary thing is your mind created this nightmare just for you by using things you've heard, seen, smelled, tasted, and even thought. Can we even trust our own sub-conscious!
iamgone Sep 2020
I can see you
inside the closet
as I watch you from
under the covers
your eyes peak out
through the darkness
hiding
and I can tell you know I'm
scared
I know you're
there
I can see you

(now read up)
i'm watching you
maria Sep 2020
let me be
   let
       me-

_stop the bit
      I'm out of breath
written on September 15, 2020
© ,Maria
Z the poet Sep 2020
In shadows of the cold dark night
There live a creature created from pure fright
It is he who walks in the night
When I stroll in the day he does not appear
Yet as midnight aproaches my body is filled with fear
I wonder as my walk gathers some speed
where is this evil creature with his unspeakable deed
When I finnaly arive at my front door and ruffle the keys
I hear in the night a sound that turns my blood cold
For I know it is he who walks in the night
Nolan Minnix NEC Sep 2020
What a beautiful Temptation with something left bare
Can’t sleep tho because of nightmares
I use to dream of happiness from Tranquility
But now I hear the sound of what I think is thunder and it’s killing me

I wish I could write the problems out in chalk
And wash them away on a rainy evening walk
I see the face i taste the skin
I still hear the laugh let the games begin

Strike me down with razor like Talons
While the blood leaks from me like a gallon
I wake up feeling so small
Lost and confused when will you make a call

You have scared me since I was a kid
I wish I could put my dreams in a box id close the lid
I know you not real but still it’s so strange
I’ll never forget the man with red eyes and two fangs
This is about a man that I’d have nightmares about a lot as a kid still creeps me out to this day.
Lisa Sep 2020
It was quiet as he went into the night
in a city devoid of all light
His face hidden behind a hat
his identity was a mistery, and yet,
when I walked by him at 1 o clock
he turned his head and I felt a knock

My door began to open and let him in
When he walked through the frame I could feel it begin
My edges frayed
My insides decayed
When he had turned his head
I was already walking among the dead
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