The Woods

By: Kristyn Garza


the white fluff that lay on yonder tree

tinted with a ravaging red.

Silence cuts the cool crisp air

like a shriek in the night

it is not dark and yet

Fear claws at my soul, turning it a heavy onyx.

Voices, I hear them all around me

surrounding my thoughts and clouding my mind

they whisper of oncoming sorrow, of uncertainty

piercing my poor heart with cold icicles of terror

I attempt to clod my way through the thick gloom,

gloom that has seeped into the already cold air

turning everything frozen.

I cannot run, cannot move

the voices grow with every struggle I make

and so, I crumple to the ground, sprawled

on the soft white blanket that covers the earth

looking up at the pale, ocean sky.

The tree branches lying overhead mock

and jest at my pain like cackling hyenas

stalking their weak prey.

I hold my hands to my ears

unable to take much more Fear,


I close my eyes and see

the white fluff that lay on yonder tree

and ravaging red.


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