The Ghost Whispers Poem by Chijioke Olisah

When the clock ticks towards the twelve dark night.
His heart trembles with red eyes and goose bumps.
He wishes and prays for six hours to be cut down to one second.
Reminiscing the early hours of the morning,
when he smiles to his colleagues without mourning,
and hoping the sun will be His moon and His whole life will be made up of early PM and late Am.

Ooo…how I wish he could remove the edges of the stars and soak the cloud with bleaches.
But if wishes where horses, the broken hearted will ride on them,
While thinking, a dark interface covered His eyes with some whitish blinks of flashes,
Then he knew he was within the four walls of coma,

The ignoramus nature of His relatives couldn’t wait for life to be injected into Him through syringes,
He was embalmed with fibres, packages with golden sticks and place in the region of 6fts.
Waiting for the porous soil to be dropped on it.

Ahhh..His spirit cries and whispers to every crying being present *whispering**am alive**
Please feel me in**common help me**His whispers hold no waters, His tears had no drops,
his stimuli had no stigma, he wept and slept in coma.

When he woke up, it was a bright and sunny day, and then he knew he was dreaming.
This is what a thousand and one people pass through every day,
Please hear their chuckles when their GHOST WHISPERS