Jogging down a lonely path
waiting in the bushes to unleash his wrath
slipping on the black gloves a warning
secrets revealed in early mourning
moonlight reflectng off a single blade
steady breathing and hands unafraid
waiting in the shadows for the perfect prey
under the cover of darkness the killer will stay
hidden away on this terrible night
rumbling bushes and the cold beating of heart
waits the shadow tensing ready to start
eyes turn to slits and teeth turn to fangs
it all happens in an instant, in the blink of an eye
with the slice of the blade, prey will die
crumbles to the ground: a limp lifeless thing
while a chill wind blows, and night owls sing
a good bye song to the soul thats been taken
the sun peaks over the hill uncovering whats been done
too late to save her, the killer has won
the sun goes down
unleashing the monster on this innocent town
and it all begins again:
jogging down a lonely path
he waits in the bushes to unleash his wrath
YOU ARE READING
If Life Was Like a Poem
PoesiaA collection of various poetry works written from 2012--present
