December 18, 2008
By Gregory Tyler Jennings, McMinnville, TN

Look at the hills, gleaming with light, running so softly in the sunlight, feeling the cold breeze, past right through me, all of the sudden, I look at the hills, and it's coming right for me, trying to run, as fast as I can, the road feels like it get's longer, by the valley, all creeped out, in a blink of an eye, I pull put my revolver, and I shoot up a storm, but still it follows me, where ever I go, and it doesn't bleed, almost as if, it was a dream, of the pure dead, hearing it's footsteps, along the sides, or even the thought, would send shivers down my spine, I eventually come across a station, I go in, there is no one here, I look around, but everyone is dead, so instead of running, I put a bullet through my head, but before I go, I tell you this , I'll see you in hell.

The author's comments:
When I have nothing else to do, I right songs or poems.

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