She hands me the gun and leaves me standing.
Her eyes demanding.
But I don't what she wants from me.
Her smile turns into a snarl.
Her eyes glow purple in the dark.
She whispers her words.
Don't let them catch you first.
Lets see who can be free.
She rips the gun from my hand and makes her final demand.
Be free.
My clock strikes nine.
She stands in the doorway of mine.
Watching.
Waiting.
Whispering.
They close the door.
They couldn't see her like before.
She screams and runs.
Never more.
The floor boards creek.
I dare not peek.
It's more frightening now she speaks.
She never did that before.
She hauts my dreams.
Senseless.
Relentless.
I don't think she is hunting me.
Purple hair.
Dead unfair.
Long claws.
Sharp teeth.
Is she gonna reap, what I keep?
She says this isn't the end of me.
Only the beginning.
YOU ARE READING
Talking To The Night
PoetryA story of my life, in little poems. Hope y'all enjoy viewing my life from behind a screen :) (Also I do not own ANY of these photos, if your photo is used it is Beacsue I thought it would fit awesomely :D ) 17/11/18 #90 in shortpoems
