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The Hunt
Lurking in shadowed corners,
Like a snake waiting to strike.
Silently it crept up on me,
Attacking before I realized,
I am its’ prey.
It’s pulling me back.
The cold, bony fingers,
Grasping my ankles tightly.
I’m falling,
Falling into the dark abyss.
The thoughts, the ideas,
They are back,
Calling my name, whispering in the darkness,
The plan of a death is rewritten,
The plan of my own death.
The hunt was successful.
This is really sad. Definely depicts depression.
I really like it. Well done. *hugs*
-C.J.