The whispering wind began to scream
piercing through the night.
The crippled trees swung to and fro
longing to be upright.
I heard his footsteps one by one
tapping on the ground.
Slow at first then they sped up
I warily turned around.
My tongue became redundant
my screams could not be heard
my legs, useless appendages
unable to move forward.
The last thing I remember
was the colour of his skin
white as alabaster
cold as icy wind.
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Dark Attraction
PoetryA collection of deliciously, dark poems. #3 in Poetry - 9/6/18 I hope you enjoy and any time taken to read, is greatly appreciated and if you wanted to hit the little vote button or comment, you will have my eternal gratitude. H x The main theme of...
