A man set off one day
Taking swift steps and
Whistling a cheerful, plucky tune
Suddenly he slows down,
Realizing he's lost
He knows the road very well
Having lived there most his life
But the street is different today
It's twisted and covered in thorny vines
Although it was morning when he started
The path before him was dark and misty
He was ashamed for not being able
To navigate his own street
So he didn't call out for help
He kept wandering, eyes darting
Yelping when he heard a stir
He trudged along, finally plopping down in frustration
His tears were hot and angry
He was alone and lost
Not knowing if he'd ever find his way
The road seemed to be tightening
The mist intensifying, the dark growing
He can't see, he can't breathe
A dark figure moves toward him
At a rather speedy pace
It chases him down the street
The man runs into a building for safety
It follows and he takes off up the stairs
All the way to the roof
The figure keeps approaching
The man glances at the figure
Then to the street beneath
Then his body is flying of the roof
Onto the relieving cement below
Actually funny story about this one, I do weird things in my sleep, I'm renowned for sleep texting but one morning I woke up to this being opened on my phone, it said it had been written at 3:34am the previous night, while I was sleeping. So I suppose my deep conscience is a little dark but whose isn't right?
