Running,
running,
heart pounding,
lungs straining.
They howled,
and laughed as they chased me.
Their eyes were black,
like pebbles after the rain.
I used to know them,
used to see them in my dreams.
They've come to haunt me now,
and I don't think I can run much longer.
YOU ARE READING
the city
Poetryand no matter how much you water scorched grass and withering weeds, you will never make a garden re-grow -M.R c.2016
