Cold trees of green and white
Chilled winds howl and whine
A clearing void of grass
Deep marks scraped in stone
You stand alone, lost
Searching for your home
Heart beating much too fast
Eyes flicker over bones
A voice from everywhere at once
echoes through your head
Come close, my dear
It whispers, distorted
You turn, fearfully,
and see nothing,
nothing but the
onsetting fog
Hollowed sockets
stare from a rotting skull
and sharp daggers for claws
drag from gaunt arms
onto the forest floor
It hungers.
YOU ARE READING
Erinn's Collection of Poetry
شِعرPoems that float around in my head that are lucky enough to be written down.
