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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #1998111
A struggle in the night.
The dead of night, deafening silence

The light cowers, letting darkness consume the land

Alone, standing dead center of the looming oak

Something stalks me.



The feeling that kills, paranoia runs me

Show yourself, too frightened to croak

The frost doesn't wait to engulf my body

"Show yourself."



The bastard refuses to show, I become frigid

Who would respond if their aim was torment?

Finally, I hear it getting closer

A step closer.



My heart mocks the hummingbird

"Please, end it and take what you want."

My plea goes through, a chill from my ear to my body,

"I already have."
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1998111-The-Stranger