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#ghosts #phrase #procrastination Like shower mist, I saw you Going up and down my stairs Clutching an old '45 And a bobby pin in your hair The first time I saw you It was Novembers first frost You...
#halloweenparty #ghosts Past. Present. Future. Spirits haunt our world. Revenge. Peace. Visiting. They get what they came for. Nothing. Something. Night shadows. They come from the dark. Kill. Visit.
Linoleum floors can't hold you in Drip, drip of the medicine White sheets, white lights, white face Don't want you to leave this place But I'm afraid the time has come Now your soul runs Comatose...
#Halloweenparty. #Ghosts. Come one. Come all. To the masquerade ball. Into this dream. You will soon start to fall. The ghostly figures. They twirl and dance. Hiding their dead eyes.
#halloweenparty #ghosts They say that when a flame turns blue, A spirit hovers close to you, A ghost sends chills and flickers, boo. And your blood drains, your morals, too.
I'm haunted by you; Everywhere I go I see you In the crowd, Always a little Too far away To catch up to, But then I realise it Can't be you.
A silver fox, almost transparent in the gloom, runs past my feet with a chill.
#halloweenparty #ghosts A rustling noise on a chilly autumn morning, A rabbit foraging for food, The crunching of the dead leaves under his feet.
A cold sweat would have broke out over me, the night was pure black, pure... terror. The horror had began unfolding before I'd even managed to get a grip on the events that flashed before my eyes.
Today is the first day of October. This marks the beginning of the Opuss #halloweenparty. I admittedly didn't expect the idea to get so many likes (31, actually, on the original post).
#halloweenparty As you all know, the festive season is almost here. And by that, I mean Hallowe'en.
In the valley of the living. The dead do play. "One day we'll go to heaven". That's what the children would say. But adults knew better. They knew they would find no end.
I'm standing alone. No one in sight. This place is so eary. In the darkest of night. Orbs they do roam. Around all these rooms. Making their noises. Slamming doors with big booms.
Feather-light, Shades of grey, When they appear, I've naught to say. Waifs so thin, Morose and sad, And when they're gone, I feel so glad.
This poem was made by @lucandsurprise and @ell. I walk these crowded streets every day and every night. I walk with the living, yet I am out of sight. sometimes I find others like me.