The Hunted…

The Hunted

I am hunted like a wild gazelle.
Once fleet of foot, my steps now drag
And I stumble and fall
Amongst the tangles and thorns that surround me.

My breath comes in ragged gasps.
My sides, pumping like a bellows,
Cannot seem to keep up
With the ever-increasing need for oxygen.

My mouth is hot and dry.
Past ragged lips parched with thirst,
I cannot stop the quiet cries of pain and anguish
That escape unheeded into the darkening night.

My legs are trembling.
As I try and stagger back to my feet,
Trying to continue the desperate flight
And escape the beast that hunts me.

I know that It is getting nearer.
No matter how hard I run or hide,
It pursues me with a determination
Beyond that of the most passionate natural predator.

And so I get back up and run.
I run until my heart hammers in my chest,
And every muscle screams at me
In protest of my sudden, desolate need.

And close behind me, the Beast still comes…..


~ by daveprime on August 6, 2010.

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