I hear footsteps, following me,
Same cold weather, the smell of that charmer, was here.
I run, seeking nothing, but refuge,
It gets dark, and I can't find one.
That shadow, that face, was here now,
Within seconds, within fractions of them, it vanished.
It gets horrid, I'm filled with fright,
It gets ill, iller, should get out of this, anyhow.
I got contact with the supernatural,
It gave me blisters,
That time would heal, and my head won't,
I can't rest, and there's no place to go.
I hid myself,
Thought about the past vicious actions, I instigated,
And, I found none.
Light, there is -
Marks the commencement of the dawn,
And, here is -
The escape.
YOU ARE READING
Chaotic Rhymes.
PoetrySometimes, you might write some junk, in the middle of the night. All you've got to do is, grab a pencil and a paper, and scribble. Who knows, one day, you might compile the bits, and name them as 'your work'. It's the result of the same actions. Wr...
