Tell me what I am.
Instructed by the death bringer, I hold the door closed on innocence, as a wolf raids their home. All they feel is fear. They lose all care as if they hadn't had any ounce of compassion to begin with, screaming. The loud slamming of their bodies along the inside of their confinements, pressed against the door that I hold shut, unless told to open. A gaze from a familiar face that's discomforted just as I am at the horror that's taking place, but even this one hasn't seen the darkness, they make a crude joke to lighten the suffering of hopelessness. They trample over one another, the screaming of the panicking mass doesn't stop, though when one is caught, they accept their death even before they are silenced forever. Eyes pale, a blank stare, though body shaking vigorously, from the pounding of their heartbeat that speaks far louder than any cries. The row of trampling becomes louder and louder as the instinctive thought of death boils through their veins while they trip over one another into their own filth. They have no idea what death is, though their will to survive is paramount, and to not be next for their unwilling slaughter.
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The story remains true,
but now that I say that the characters of the story were animals vs. humans.
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Do you dare ask me what kind of animal?
YOU ARE READING
Release
PoetryThis is a collection of my writing from the past 7 years. Before I started to write, I was a very lost individual, as are most teens, but I was lost in darkness. I was too afraid to move anywhere at all. I hid in the dark, debilitated by my own anxi...
