Imaginary World

February 8, 2011
The shadows pass by me, taunting me.
Their red eyes beam from the bushes.
Their claws scratch me.
Tearing my jacket.
I run. . .
I run. . .
No matter how fast I run they follow right behind me.
The sun will never rise again, they have covered it.
I run in the dark, I will from now on.
Some see a little light at the end of the forest.
They follow it and I never see them again.
But it never shows itself to me.
Will it ever show itself to me?
Will it?





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