The stranded stopped,
instinctively called out,
voice far away
before it excited his mouth.
.
White sky,
the others ran.
Eyes opened wide with fear,
'he's coming.'
.
Far off,
they could hear the sound.
.
The boy was able to escape them,
struggling for breath.
.
*just another erasure poem. I think this one hopefully makes more sense?*
YOU ARE READING
streetlights
Teen FictionI write these stories so the voices in my head will stop telling them. [Dribbles and drabbles from my messed up mind]
