Creature Called Death

July 27, 2011
Can I get away?
Away from the monster.
This thing that chases me,
Hoping to satisfy hunger.
This creature called death;
Good or bad-I know not yet,
For this monster devours sinners’ breath.
I hear him.
I hear him!
He’s coming fast.
Anxious, I slap the reins on my mare of black.
Deep in dark woods, clothes torn, tender skin scratched.
I feel the tears-they’re pouring down.
I feel my gritted teeth-the clashing is hurting my jaw.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry” I yell.
“But I will not go, that’s all I’ll tell.
Whether I see heaven or hell,
I will not go” I frightfully yell.
Can I get away?
Faster, faster-
My darling mare why do you slow?
We mustn’t stop.
Here he comes-I see him now.
My tired mare gives slack-
I feel his breath upon my back-
I close sore eyes-
I can’t stop his attack.
Somehow, I know I can’t

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