A poem i wrote without lifting my pen. I kept writing until I felt I'd finished the poem. |
The jungle was quiet, the people slept Their spirits so happy, no one wept Off in the distance rang havoc so near A fog was drifting over the frontier There finally was a Glimmer, the golden sun rose From sleeping together, they returned from the doze They looked in the distance, the cloud seemed so near Something about this cloud tore them with fear As the fog rolled in, the men were on their way A few old stragglers stayed for the day The ones who stayed were sure to pass The men who walked were meant to last As the fog rolled closer two figures appeared In front of the fog they treacherously sneered As more and more men arose from the fog The men stopped walking to begin to jog As whispers of pain and cries of despair… Choked and fluttered in the horrid summer air… The living ran faster and kept on ahead Startlingly close behind was this fog of the dead The men were all cornered in a steep, rocky trench The deads’ evil voices made jaws begin to clench The men sure tried, they tried hard to survive But the fog is unbeatable, it leaves no one alive |