The forest
Don't go into the forest.
There's a beast, that beast kills.
There's a cold blooded killer.
The shadows of the dead slowly chokes you.
I heard the stories.
I heard the howls.
I heard the screams of scared people.
I saw the blood tracks on the road.
I went into this dark black and cold forest.
The wind howled making the trees move.
There branches hit me
The sharp leaves hit me hard.
I fell into the dark puddle.
I couldn't tell what it was.
It smelled rank. It looked red.
"Is this blood?" I thought to myself as I got up.
Snap the branches made a sound behind me.
Scared I grabbed a branch and hit whatever it was.
It broke the branch.
After I hit the thing I ran and ran out.
Not looking back.
I was too afraid to ever go in the forest again.
The trees hide mysteries and screams.
I still here those howls and those people screaming.
They run out of the forest like they saw a ghost.
I sit up there in a tower laughing at all those people who go in and run out.
It's sad that no one here's me scream for help.
They can't even see me.
They try to help,
But they always die before the end.
That forest is still a mystery.
You still hear howls. You still taste the blood in the air.
And you still feel those trees.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoesíaIt's a bunch of poems that I made for school but I want to publish them so here we are, and sometimes updates on what has been going on in my head that I can't make a full poem about.
