They come.
Crashing, smashing, howling, they come,
Breaking through the dark forest
Of my mind.
And I
I stand,
Listening...
---
My knees are scraped.
My heart pounds.
My clothes are torn.
My legs ache.
Even if I wanted to,
I can't run
Not anymore.
---
Nervously, I swallow.
I lick dry lips.
I brush off my clothes,
Fix my hair,
And take a deep breath.
I listen for them to come,
Waiting.
---
They come at top speed.
They won't slow down.
They thunder closer,
Screaming words I don't want to hear.
They crash through the trees behind me,
Filling the air around me.
Their hot breath is right
On my neck.
---
Slowly, I turn.
I force a smile on my face.
I force my tone to be light and airy.
"Hello, dear demons."
"I don't think I can outrun you."
"So why don't we just sit down,"
"And talk for a bit?"
YOU ARE READING
Scratching the Surface (Poems)
PoetryUPDATE: I wrote these when I was 13 and depressed all the time. I'm 18 now, and, fortunately, life's been going well! Unfortunately, these poems are fairly cringe, so read at your own risk. Just some poems that I write when I'm in the poetic mood...
