You see the eyes.
Glowing eyes:
Called death.
You wait,
When will it pounce.
You wait,
Begging for life to end.
Waiting for the final blow,
Anticipating death.
You feel the teeth of the beast,
You feel blood on your flesh,
From all the victims before you.
Then the jaws snap.
Pain surges your body.
Then it's gone:
You're gone.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Volume 1
PoesíaJust poems, mostly unedited. These are raw emotions treat them with respect and no flash photography.
