The trees were wilted and dead. The only sound was the crackle of lightning, and the constant murmuring of a strange voice. It echoed like the woods was a tunnel. The fear of being alone tortured me. The fear I wouldn't make it out of this dark forest ate at my soul. The sweat on my face turned to ice, when I crossed into a darker part of the endless forest. The trees opened up, and the voice got louder. I entered a clearing, and saw myself reflecting off of mirrors that now surrounded me. I looked closer and saw my reflection mouthing something it turned around, and put its head down in between its legs as it sat down. I heard loud, hysterical crying. I felt the shouts of pain, and the screams for help, as if it was in my own head. The trees turned to what looked like gallows, and bodies upon bodies dropped one by one. All making the sound of snapping necks and squeals. I looked everywhere horrorstruck, my mind made the room spin, and my blood roared loudly in my ears. My heart was racing, and slowly calmed down. The sky turned into a camera and I was seeing from a set of eyes.... my eyes... so that means that this is only my mind.
————— Antonio Taveras
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Letters To The Writer: Volume 1
PoetryJust me writing poems, can be sad, can be happy, matters about he day and what I'm writing about. This is really for me but if you like it a share, vote, comment would be much appreciated, thank you.
